Teen Wolf Prompt Project
by Mirajane Scarlet
Summary: This is a collection of Teen Wolf oneshots. Some of them fit with canon, some of them don't. Most of them are Sterek, but there are other pairings too. So, basically, it's just a big mess of every possible thing!
1. Domesticated

_Notes: I am doing this thing over on tumblr (I'm MirajaneScarlet over there, too!) called the Teen Wolf Prompt Project. I write something every day, and hopefully people will send me prompts, because, well, that's kind of the point. :) I was going to post each of these individually, but I think it'd be easier if I posted them all as one story and each little fic/ficlet as a chapter of this story. So, yeah, this will be updated with a new chapter/story every day. _

_You can also send me a prompt through private messages here on ffn if you don't want to go over to tumblr or if you don't have a tumblr!_

**Domesticated**

It's a little funny, Stiles thinks, watching his boyfriend walk down the dairy aisle in the grocery store, having a silent debate with himself over which type of cheese to get.

Or who knows, maybe Derek is internally debating something more important. Stiles doubts it. Either way, that dead serious look needs to be wiped off of his face. Stiles looks over at the shelf on the closest side of the aisle and grabs a bag of the little pre-wrapped mini cheeses. Without warning he throws it, aiming for Derek's head. Derek doesn't need to so much as turn around, he catches the bag of mini-cheeses out of the air like some weird cheese-snatching ninja.

"I take it that means you want these?" Derek says.

"Those are my favorite, yes," Stiles giggles more than says the words.

Derek turns around. "Okay, what?" he demands.

Stiles can't help it, he bursts into laughter. "You," he finally says.

Derek shakes his head slowly, clearly not following Stiles' anti-logical train of thought.

"It's still funny. You. In a grocery store. With me. Debating what foods to get."

"I don't really consider you throwing cheese at my head a real debate."

Stiles laughs even louder because... Derek Hale just made a joke. In a grocery store. If he went back in time and told the sixteen year old version of himself that Derek would change from the broody, dirty, slightly creepy guy who lived in hollowed out houses and old train stations to a guy who lived an ordinary (moonlit runs as a werewolf aside) life where he bought groceries and made jokes... the sixteen year old version of himself would not have believed it. The sixteen year old version of himself would also probably have gagged at the idea of dating Derek, cleaned up or not. He would have also wanted to know exactly how time travel was possible and how it worked, but that was a whole other thing.

Stiles is taken out of his thoughts by a package of kraft singles hitting him in the face.

"You were... supposed to..." Derek bursts out laughing as Stiles scowls at him and rubs at his face.

"Don't even say you're sorry," Stiles grumbles, still rubbing at the spot he's sure will have a square cheese shaped bruise by tomorrow.

"I'm not," Derek says, still laughing.


	2. Sunset

_Notes: This was requested by my friend sixchord before I started my teen wolf prompt project. She sent me a really goofy picture of Tyler Hoechlin and a sunset and I came up with the idea of Stiles and Derek on a deserted island. I sat down to write it and... this is what happened. It's pretty much complete crack._

_Characters: Stiles, Derek_

_Genres: Crack!fic_

**Sunset**

"This is easily the most ridiculous thing that has ever happened, ever."

Derek looks over at Stiles and shrugs. The kid is probably right, but he's too tired and too hot to care.

"So, let's list this all here. Witches exist. And you managed to piss one off. And her idea of a practical joke is..." Stiles waves a pale hand at the white sand and the never ending bright blue sea surrounding them. "Sending us to a destered island."

At this, Derek snorts. "Yeah, I was the one pissing her off."

"What?" Stiles turns toward him just a little and he his this indignant, insulted look on his face. If it's at all possible, Stiles somehow has that whole look all over. Most people just express feelings with their faces or their words. But not Stiles. No, he expresses things with his whole body and not just with words but with mountains of words. It makes something in Derek want to reach out and smack him.

"You kept correcting her. A thousands of years old witch, and you kept correcting her." Derek gives Stiles his best scowl and sits up a bit. They're sitting under the only patch of trees on the pathetic excuse for an island, have been for over an hour, and they have no idea what to do, so all they've been doing is bickering. And they're not even doing that very well, they just keep going over the same tired arguments again and again.

"Whatever, allright? We need to figure out how to get the hell off this island." Stiles runs a hand over the back of his head and groans. "How the hell are we going to get off this island?"

Derek shrugs. "I have no idea."

Stiles half-heartedly kicks some sand at Derek. Derek ignores it, mostly because almost none of the sand actually hits him. "You're the Alpha, aren't you supposed to be the one with the ideas?"

Again, Derek shrugs. "That doesn't help with coming up with anything."

"Well..." Stiles lets out a long sigh. "If we have no way of getting off this island, then I guess we better start preparing some shelter." He waves a hand at the setting sun and the purple and orange clouds. "It's going to be dark soon."

Really, this would almost be romantic. The beach, the waves, the postcard beautiful sunset... Well, it would be romantic if Derek had found himself stuck here with anyone other than Stiles.


	3. Leather Is Not Your Friend

_Characters: Peter, Derek _

_Genres: Fluff, Comedy_

**Leather Is Not Your Friend**

About two months after Peter starts living with Derek, he notices something. Not that he hadn't noticed it before, of course, just that... after two months it's gotten on his nerves to the point where he has to do something about it.

Derek only owns three shirts, two pairs of pants and one leather jacket.

And they don't have a washer and dryer. (Well, of course they don't, some rooms in the house don't even have a ceiling.)

Peter usually deals with this not having a washer and dryer problem in one of two ways. One, he goes and buys more clothes. Or two, when he's really desperate, he goes to a laundromat.

But Derek? He's never seen Derek do either of those things. He's probably too busy brooding and stalking Scott and that other one, the one that never stops talking almost to the point of not even stopping to breathe.

So, one day, when he's particularly bored and feeling more antagonistic than usual, Peter corners Derek and tells him they're going shopping.

Derek growls low in his throat like Peter had just said that he was going to go and kill the talkative kid, but Peter just shakes his head. "This is not a choice. We're going."

Derek growls again and says something about how he's the Alpha and he gets to make the decisions, but then Peter reminds him that yes, maybe he's an Alpha, but he's an Alpha with a four person pack and that's only if you include Jackson, and Jackson's such a bad werewolf he almost doesn't count. So, Derek really needs to keep his pack happy. And Peter? He is most definitely not happy with having an Alpha who not only owns just three shirts, owns just three shirts all in the same style and the same color. And it's not even a nice color.

So, they go. Derek growls, groans, mutters and mumbles curses the whole way there, but Peter counts it as a victory anyway.

The first place they go to is Macy's, because, let's face it, this is Beacon Hills and that's about as close as this town gets to actual fashion.

Derek, of course, heads straight for the wife beaters and it takes all of Peter's strength to drag him away and make him try on other shirts. Ones that button up. Ones that have sleeves. A few t-shirts, even. Anything but more of the same.

Then, once they've got about ten shirts, they head over to the pants and Derek just wants jeans. And not only that, he thinks one pair is sufficient.

This is wrong and Peter spends the better part of five minutes explaining to his so-fashion-challenged-it-might-well-involve-a-learning-deficiency nephew, why a person needs more than five pairs of pants and why those pants need to be made of things other than denim.

It takes a while, but finally he manages to convince Derek into trying on some slacks.

Then some sweaters.

Then some belts.

And finally, some shoes. The whole wearing the same pair of boots all the time thing? Yeah, that doesn't work either.

By the time they get around to jackets, Derek starts getting annoyed to the point Peter is sure Derek is about to wolf out and attack the nearest sales person, so they go to the front of the store, pay for their goods, and leave.

All in all, Peter considers the day a success. Sure, most of what Derek bought was either white, black or gray, but it's a start. And none of it was leather, which is another huge point in the plus column.

He's not sure if Derek actually learned anything today, Derek has always been awfully thick headed, but at least he's got more than three shirts in his still pitifully meager compared to a regular person wardrobe.


	4. So Awkward But Kinda Nice

_Notes: This was written for whatimustwrite on tumblr who prompted me "sterek and hand holding". I also included some Isaac because... Derek as this gruff but caring older brother type, okay._

_Characters: Stiles, Derek_

_Genres: General, Fluff_

**So awkward, but kinda nice**

Derek paces from the door to the window of Stiles' room so many times it's starting to make Stiles nervous.

Stiles decides he should say something so he says, "It'll be fine."

Derek pauses for a second and gives Stiles a glare cold enough to give him frostbite then resumes pacing.

"Could you sit down? You're making me dizzy."

This time, Derek doesn't stop pacing. He doesn't even glare at Stiles. He just gives this stilted little grunt.

Stiles lets slip this little bark of laughter and that gets Derek to stop, turn to face him and glare like he thinks he can use the power of his mind to make Stiles' head explode. It doesn't, of course, but that doesn't stop the bright red flush Stiles can feel creeping up his neck and blossoming on his cheeks like some twisted sort of flower.

Derek stares at him like that for fifteen seconds before turning on his heel and resuming pacing.

The continued pacing just makes Stiles break out into laughter again. This time Derek stops and finally he speaks. "What?"

"It's just... you... that," Stiles stumbles and trips over words in an attempt to get his point, any point across. "You're not even..." Stiles hands fly around like he's trying to invent some new form of sign language. "It's not even your test. You're not the one trying to get into college. You'd think you'd be stressed for you, but no. When it comes to your life you don't care. But Isaac?" Stiles breaks out into this grin like this is the funniest thing he's ever thought of, heard or seen. "You get so nervous. You're like this older brother who is a total jackass but deep down you care _so much_."

About three separate looks cross Derek's face. The first means he wants to smack Stiles, the second means he wants to shove Stiles up against the wall and the third... Stiles isn't quite sure what the third means.

Derek walks over to the window and stares out, facing away from Stiles. "Like I can't be concerned for my pack?"

Stiles lets loose another laugh then hesitates, waiting for another death glare from Derek. When Derek doesn't react, Stiles says, "This isn't a pack thing. You don't care this much about Jackson. Or Peter. Actually, I'm not sure why you let Peter stick around at all."

Derek shrugs and Stiles takes this as an invitation to continue. "You've become like this older brother to Isaac. It's sweet. And he needs it, you know? He doesn't have anyone else."

Derek doesn't say anything. Stiles waits for an entire minute and Derek doesn't say anything, he just stands there, staring out the window and Stiles thinks that this is worse than the pacing. The silence. The silence is eating at him.

So, without thinking it through - because if he thought it through at all, even a little, he would never do it - Stiles gets up and walks over to Derek. He grabs Derek's hand and drags him over to the bed. "Come on. Just sit down," he says. That's when he notices. He just grabbed Derek's hand. He's touching Derek. Why. Why is he touching Derek? This is a bad idea.

He drops Derek's hand like it's just caught fire and he takes a step back. Derek still doesn't say anything, but he grabs Stiles' hand and leads _him _over to the bed. They both sit down and neither of them say anything, they just sit there, holding hands and it's awkward, so awkward, but it's also, if Stiles pushes the awkwardness aside, kind of nice.


	5. Movie Night

_Characters: Lydia, Jackson_

_Genres: General_

**Movie Night**

"Okay, but why. Why does is always have to be this movie? Thousands of other movies and we always have to watch this one," says Jackson. He holds up a worn-down looking copy of 'The Notebook' and looks at it with disgust.

Lydia grins and wiggles into a more comfortable position on the couch. "Don't lie. You love this movie. I see you tearing up every time we watch it."

"Those are tears of boredom. This is the most boring movie I've ever seen."

There's a tense stare down between the two of them, but Lydia wins. She always wins.


	6. Put Me Down Now

_Characters: Stiles, Derek_

_Genre: Fluff, well, Fluff with bullets_

**Put Me Down Now**

"No, really, I'm fine," Stiles protests. He squirms and it's awkward because Derek is holding him, carrying him and it's just all sorts of uncomfortable. It wasn't even like he was really shot. The bullet just grazed his leg. And he's been telling Derek this for the past half hour, but Derek, of course, hasn't been listening. "Please, please put me down."

Derek grunts something that sounds roughly like "Uh-huh".

"Put. Me. Down."

"No."

"Derek Hale you put me down right now. I do not need to be carried! I am not some damsel in distress here I can walk just fine!"

For the first time in the whole night, Derek speaks more than one syllable. "Yes, you do. You got shot in the leg."

"I did not! I got barely grazed by a bullet! See?" Stiles sort of points at his leg. It's difficult, what with being carried by another person, but he does the best he can to flail his arm a bit at the general direction of his injured leg. "Not even that much blood."

"I'm still not putting you down."

"Fine." Stiles grunts and then an idea hits him. He's going to hit Derek until he puts him down. "Fine," he says again for emphasis and then he starts smacking at any available bit of Derek he can find.

In response to this, Derek grunts and abruptly drops him. Doesn't put him down, just drops him right then and there, no warning, no nothing.

"There," says Derek, sounding all too satisfied with himself, "are you happy now?"

From his spot sprawled out on the concrete, Stiles mutters, "Ecstatic."


	7. If I Should Fall Behind

_Characters: Allison_

_Genres: Drama, Character Study_

**If I should fall behind**

They pass by each other in the hallways and it's weird.

It's weird not just in the way that it's always weird when you see an ex in the hallway, but it's weird because so much has happened and there is so much out there that all the other people in the hallway don't know exists and probably won't ever know exists.

She has people to talk to about it, so it's not that she misses having someone who understands. She has people who understand. She has Lydia and she has Jackson. He has Stiles and he has Isaac. But they no longer have each other and it's sad. It's the kind of sad that alternates between hitting her full force and making her just stop in the middle of whatever she's doing and fading into the background, like a dull, throbbing ache. Either way, it never really goes away.

She doesn't have a lot of experience with this sort of thing, with dating, because of all her reasons. She's a year older than everyone else and no one really ever understood that it wasn't because she was dumb or had been held back, it was just that she moved a lot. She moves a lot so the second she got involved with someone, she'd be moving again, so why bother?

So she doesn't know how this is supposed to feel, she doesn't know what she's supposed to do, but she knows it isn't supposed to be like this. You're supposed to break up with someone because the way they popped their gum annoyed you, or the way they ditched you for insert sport or club name here got on your nerves. Or their hobbies were just too weird. Or they had stupid friends.

You're not supposed to break up with someone because you're the thing that hunts monsters and he's a 'monster'. You're not supposed to break up because it turned out your grandfather was psychotic and was using you like a piece in some game. And you tried to kill their friends. And sided against them in a battle that involved people getting injured. And you hurt people. And maybe you're a monster.

And sometimes she just feels broken. She feels broken in a way she's not sure anyone will ever understand. She feels broken in a way she's not sure can be fixed. She's not sure she even deserves to be fixed.

She's probably friends with Lydia and Jackson because they're broken too, and they can all kind of be broken together except for that a good half the time, Lydia and Jackson are off with each other, off fixing each other just by being together and... she... just... she's not getting any better. She's not sure she's not getting worse. And she can see it, just a little, every now and then. Every now and then when Lydia says she's fine, she means it. Every now and then, Jackson will smile and it's a real smile, not that fake, sharp, plastic one he uses to keep everyone away.

So she feels like she's completely alone a lot of the time. Not that she spends a lot of time by herself, that part she's fine with, it's that she _feels_ alone - like she's drifting in this big giant ocean and there's no one for miles, just her, all alone. And she can't really talk to her friends. And she definitely can't talk to her Dad. No, he's got enough issues, what with how in the span of a year he lost his sister, his wife and his father. She lost her mother, her aunt and her grandfather, and she's sad about it but... with the exception of her mother, she's really not. She's supposed to be, but all she feels is anger and rage picking at her like it's picking her apart. Because they were horrible people. They were the monsters. And she doesn't know what to do about that. And she doesn't know she isn't one, either.

But her father? Her father doesn't see it that way. Her father puts on a strong face and acts like he's fine, just as strong and sturdy as he ever was, but he spends a lot of time locked up in his room or out in the garage and she's pretty sure he spends a lot of his time stoned or crying. Or stoned and crying. Either way, his eyes are red just about all the time now and she can't really ask him why that is, so ridiculous as it might be, she's going to assume he's been taking something. The idea that he just cries that much and that often, and over people who probbaly committed enough murders in their lifetimes to be ranked among the worst serial killers in the country, just doesn't make sense to her. So they don't talk much and they barely spend much time in the same room together.

And that's another thing that scares her. That it might very well be her best possible outcome in life to end up like her father. To end up with a life where sure, she isn't a monster, but everyone she loves managed to become one at some point and everyone else died or got killed or killed themselves at some point. So maybe it's best that Scott stays as far away from her as humanly possible, not just because she's a walking disaster, but because she might just end up getting him killed. Because being around her might get him killed.

So she's alone and no one understands and that's usually the definition of the words 'teenage angst' if you looked them up in a dictionary except for that in her case it's not that she doesn't like her body or that she's nervous about sex or her grades or college, no she's walking around with the constant fear that she's a monster. That she's become the same thing they were, a monster, and there's no changing that back. That there's no going back to who she used to be and that she's going to wake up one day and completely forget who that person even was. She's afraid she's broken and she can't be fixed.

That's probably the worst part. Maybe Scott wouldn't really understand either, but he probably just plain wouldn't care. Actually, he'd probably make a point of not caring. He'd make a point of showing her that he just plain didn't care how broken she was.

Like he makes a point of not looking at her, not talking to her and all around just avoiding her because that's what she asked him to do.

Which is ridiculous, really, considering how much time she spends just staring at him when he isn't looking. She also spends a lot of time, when she's not worrying about the things she's done, thinking about the brief, tiny, pathetically small amount of time they spent together before everything went absolutely horror movie level insane. Because before her life turned into a horror movie she'd thought, if asked to classify it in terms of movies, that maybe it would be a romantic comedy. That maybe her life would turn out to be less dull than it had been and maybe all the boring, lonely years she'd suffered through previously would pay off in nice friends and a cute boyfriend and everything would work out in her favor.

It didn't.

And instead, it got worse.

It got worse to the point she's not entirely convinced this isn't all punishment for something she'd done in a past life or something like that. Because why is this how her life has turned out? Why is this her life?

She'd always thought she had a perfectly boring, if slightly scary and into guns kind of family. She would never, ever in a million years think that her family was so into guns and weapons not because they sold guns for a living, but because they used those weapons themselves.

She would have never, ever in a million years thought the family business wasn't selling weapons, but killing people.

She's thought it all through more times than she wants to count but she's no closer to making any sense of any of it now than she was months ago.

And she feels like everyone is moving on without her and she's falling behind.

It's almost funny, in a way, that she's concerned about falling behind. She used to be really concerned about falling behind, what with the whole being a year older than everyone else and having had to repeat a year thing, that was probably her biggest fear up until about a year ago. Falling behind. But now? Now she fears it for an entirely different reason.


	8. Unicorns

_Characters: Stiles, Derek_

_Genre: fluff, crack!fic_

_Notes: Prompted by halffizzbin over on tumblr. Unicorns, she said. So, unicorns._

**Unicorns**

"Well, I don't know, Derek, maybe there's a unicorn in the woods," Stiles snapped. He'd been walking home from lacrosse practice, minding his own business and lamenting the fact that his trusty Jeep was in the shop and thus, not really trusty at all, when Derek snuck up on him creeper-style and started asking him weird questions like if he'd seen anything weird in the woods lately.

"There's no such thing as unicorns," said Derek, like this was the most obvious statement and even suggesting that there were or could be unicorns was absolutely ludicrous even though he himself was a werewolf.

"That, for the dark and broody here this evening, was _sarcasm_. I was making a joke. Because I don't know what's in the woods. Well, other than you and your creepy uncle and Isaac."

"Fine, but-" Derek started to say but he stopped short when Stiles started jumping up and down and flailing his arms in a way that was similar to Kermit the Frog. Well, similar except for that Kermit was a puppet and capable of moving in odd, boneless ways that Stiles, as a human, should not have been capable of.

Without explaining himself, Stiles pointed towards the woods and made a noise that sounded something like a noise a monkey would make and took off. For a second, Derek just stood there, stunned and more than a little angry before he looked over and saw what Stiles was running towards.

There was, somehow, a unicorn standing in the middle of the woods just off the side of the road.


	9. The Pool

_Characters: Stiles, Derek, Isaac_

_Genre: Fluff_

_Notes: Sixchord on tumblr prompted me "Stiles convinces Derek to go to a public pool, everybody cries over his abs." So, they do._

**The Pool**

Going to the pool had been Isaac's idea. Of course, Stiles had completely gone along with the idea - it had seemed like a fun idea at the time. That is, until he found himself at the pool, surrounded by a bunch of shirtless, implausably perfectly built werewolves. He'd never really thought much about his body, he'd never been the type to really care about that sort of thing but... this was too much.

"This is not fair," he said with an exaggerated pout.

At this, Derek quirked an eyebrow in a direction most people would have said was up but with the fuzzy caterpillars Derek's face called eyebrows it was disturbingly hard to tell.

"This," Stiles said and flailed in the general direction of well, himself. "And that," he said and pointed at Derek.

"I agree," said Isaac. Isaac folded his arms across his chest and smiled. Stiles couldn't help but notice how muscular his chest was (not that he spent a lot of time staring at Isaac) and felt like Isaac had no right to say anything, much less agree. "But then..." Isaac said, and he paused with a look like he was thinking, "I wouldn't really want to have to work out that much." He shrugged.

Derek, meanwhile, continued to stand there and look vaguely confused and vaguely annoyed. After a few seconds he grinned - or it was what constitued a grin for Derek, for most people it would have been a smirk - and shoved Isaac into the pool then jumped in after him.

"How about you stop complaining and get in the pool?" he said and turned his grin on Stiles.

"I'm keeping my shirt on," Stiles said, still unsure this was remotely a good idea.

"You are so weird," said Isaac as he climbed up halfway out of the pool. Stiles didn't have time to question what he was doing before Isaac pulled him into the pool.


	10. When Did You Guys Get A Puppy?

_Characters: Stiles, Isaac, Derek, Peter_

_Genre: Fluff_

_Notes: Prompted by sixchord on tumblr, "Isaac gets turned into an actual puppy". Thank you for all the prompts, by the way!_

__**When Did You Guys Get A Puppy?**

It's late, the sun is just setting and Stiles is hesitantly, slowly, so slowly it's more or less a snail's pace, walking towards the old Hale house, printed out pages of research in hand.

He doesn't know why he's doing this, why Derek asked (threatened) him to do research on mistletoe, of all things. There has to be someone else Derek can ask, can't there? Peter should know these things, shouldn't he?

Ultimately, though, it doesn't really matter because he's decided he's going to walk up there, knock on the door, hand Derek the printed out pages of everything he found on mistletoe, turn around, and leave. Then he will go to Lacrosse practice and pretend to be the normal teenage boy he unfortunately isn't.

It's just the walking up to the front door part that's causing him trouble.

He takes a deep breath, takes another step forward and is suddenly toppled over by a large puppy that if he had to guess he'd say was a german sheparard that has somehow come at him from out of nowhere. Before he can say or do anything the puppy has him on the ground and is licking his face like his face is the world's best ice cream cone.

He half laughs, half screams and does his best to get to his feet. The puppy is having none of this though and every time he tries to move, the puppy counters, pinning him. He's about to call out for, of all people, Derek (he'd call for Isaac, but Isaac generally likes him even less than Derek does) when he hears behind him, someone laughing.

He's able to twist his head just enough to see that it's Peter behind him, laughing.

A few seconds later he finally manages to get up and starts wiping at his face with every available inch of his shirt - anything to get all the dog slobber off of his face.

The whole time he's doing this, Peter just stands there, laughing like this is the most hilarious thing he's ever seen and the puppy just sort of sits there, staring at Stiles, watching him. Stiles is sure the puppy is just waiting for the right moment to pounce and start licking him again. Carefully, he bends down and grabs the papers he dropped when the puppy attacked him.

"So," Stiles says, trying to make conversation with, of all people, Peter Hale. "When did you guys get a puppy?" _Why _did you get a puppy is the question he really wants to ask, but he doesn't.

"We didn't," Peter says with this ridiculous grin and Stiles can't help but wonder just what's so funny about the dog. Maybe it's a stray? But how is that funny?

They walk up to the house, the puppy bounding ahead of them, and don't say anything else.

When they get to the house, the door is open and Derek is walking through the entryway with a weirdly concerned look on his face.

The puppy crashes through first and charges at Derek. Derek, however, is ready for the puppy. He catches the dog just before it reaches him and holds him still. He kneels down and looks the puppy dead in the eye. "Stay," he growls lowly and the puppy whimpers. Derek gets to his feet. "Stay," he says again. This time, the puppy sighs.

Behind Stiles, Peter closes the door and Stiles can't help but gulp - being stuck in an enclosed space with not one but two Hales is not his idea of a good time. It's not his idea of a safe time, either.

"So," Stiles says, hoping Derek will explain why all of the sudden there's a puppy and trying very hard not to think about the whole trapped with two people who have no problem with murder thing, "when did you guys get a puppy?"

"That's not a puppy. That's Isaac," says Derek, like this isn't at all strange.

"How? What? Huh?" Stiles is sure he says other things as well, but none that he really remembers. He's just stuck. How exactly is that...

Peter laughs. "Go on, Derek. Tell him how that's Isaac."

Derek growls and frowns and for a second, Stiles almost laughs because all of a sudden a thought has occurred to him - sure, Derek is excessively attractive, but with all the frowning he does, when he's older, he's going to be nothing but wrinkles. And then he's thinking about Derek and about dogs and Derek as a dog and how Derek would probably be a Shar-Pei. No, that's not quite right, Derek as he is right now would be a Rottweiler. The old man version of Derek would be a Shar Pei.

"I was reading a book," Derek says like that explains anything.

"Tell him how you were reading the book," says Peter. At this, Derek rolls his eyes.

"I was reading out loud. There. You happy now?" Derek crosses him arms and the puppy, Isaac, whines. Derek reaches down and scratches the puppy's head and it's almost sweet, which is weird because Derek is never sweet, ever.

Peter laughs again and Stiles is almost tempted to turn around and look at him, because he's sure the expression that matches that laugh must be something to see.

"I don't get it. So you were reading out loud. Lots of people do," Stiles says, not because he's in any way trying to stick up for Derek but because he just doesn't get it.

"Not spellbooks, they don't!" Peter says like this is the best punchline to any joke he's ever heard.

"Spell... Spellbooks?" Stiles stammers. Magic? There's magic and so far no one has brought this up?

"Yes. I was reading a spellbook and Isaac walked in and accidentally got hit with a transformation spell." Derek says this through gritted teeth. Stiles wonders how he and Peter have managed not to kill each other yet. Or maybe they have and reversed it. It wouldn't exactly be the first time.

"So... what you're saying is... Isaac is stuck as a dog now?" Stiles says, trying to wrap his mind around the situation and how utterly ridiculous, but also completely tragic it is.

"No," Peter says and this time he sounds not only completely serious, but kind of annoyed. "Seriously, kid, if someone was going to be stuck as a dog for the rest of their lives, you think I'd laugh about it?"

Stiles thinks it over for a second, then nods. "Well, yeah."

"Come on, I might be what you'd classify as evil, but I'm not heartless." Peter walks over to Isaac, and kneels down in front of him. He starts rubbing the spot just behind Isaac's ear and Isaac's tail starts wagging and thumping against the floor. "It'll wear off after a few hours."

"Oh," says Stiles. "Okay, then. Well..." He trails off, not sure what else to say. "Here." So he hands Derek the papers he came by to deliver, the papers that are now bent, out of order and a little dirty. "I have to go. Lacrosse practice."

As Stiles turns around and starts leaving, he can hear Peter saying something to Derek, something mocking. Derek doesn't say anything back and Isaac barks.


	11. Unexpected

_Genres: fluff_

_Characters: Stiles, Derek_

_Notes: Prompted by sixchord: "Derek is ticklish". So, blame her for this. :)_

**Unexpected**

Of all the ridiculous things Stiles has seen and done and learned in his life, the fact that Derek is ridiculously ticklist is probably somewhere near the top of the list - it's up there with the time he, Isaac and Erica nearly got killed by Jackson during the period he was the Kanima, getting beaten up by a cancer-ridden geriatric psychopath, and the time he got hit by faerie dust that made him want to have sex with everything. Which, incidentally, was the thing that caused him and Derek to get together in the first place. Not that he and Derek slept together, not that Stiles got to have sex with anyone, no, but the fact that while he was under the effects of said faerie dust Derek locked him in a room and refused to let him out until it wore off. And when it wore off Stiles couldn't get over how weird it was that Derek of all people was somehow opposed to him having sex enough to lock him up over it. So he brought it up, of course he did, how could he not, and that was when Derek kissed him.

That was six months ago and since then Stiles has been learning all sorts of weird facts about Derek that just do not at all fit with the baddass, speaking-to-other-people-is-physically-painful persona that Derek puts out.

Like that Derek likes romantic movies. Not romantic comedies, but romances, period pieces and dramas. One of his favorite movies is Punch Drunk Love and another is Blue Valentine.

Derek also loves anything black and white. And anything with Cary Grant in it. Really, Derek just really likes movies.

Usually, Stiles finds it hard to sit still long enough to watch a movie all the way through, but he doesn't mind watching movies with Derek. Actually, he kind of likes it because when they're sitting in his room, watching a movie on his laptop it's one of the few times Derek lets the sullen, angry mask fall and wears expressions other than hurt, anger or stoicisim. He smiles, and not in a I'm-laughing-at-you-right-now sort of way, but in a genuine, happy sort of way.

Some of the things he's learned are a bit more obvious - like the fact that Derek's favorite food is steak, rare. Because, of course that would be a werewolf's favorite thing to eat.

But then there are the weird, goofy things. Like how Derek is ticklish.

This is something Stiles only learned by accident about a month ago and something he only utilizes at specific moments - like now, while Derek's on the phone with Isaac about some big werewolf problem or other.

Carefully, more so as to avoid getting smacked than to not be heard because sneaking up on a werewolf that isn't Scott is just about impossible, he creeps up behind Derek. Derek doesn't react to this at first. He still hasn't learned the difference between when Stiles is sneaking up to kiss him and when he's sneaking up to tickle him and Stiles is going to have as much fun as possible with that until he figures out a way to differentiate between the two.

"So we need to-" Derek says but abruptly stops short when Stiles reaches his hands out and tickles his sides. He growls and purses his lips but this just tempts Stiles to do it more. "We need to-" Derek says into the phone again but stops short, just like he did the first time, only this time a small smile escapes on to his face.

"I need to call you back," he finally says before ending the call. He spins around to grab at Stiles, but Stiles darts out of the way and starts running for the backyard. He spins around just in front of the door to taunt Derek but ends up tripping over his own two feet instead.

Derek laughs. "I think they call that karma," he says, smug.

"You know, it's surprising how much karma tastes like the floor," Stiles gripes.

He can practically hear Derek rolling his eyes at this and a second later he's being dragged up by a rough hand on his wrist.

"You're okay, right?" Derek asks.

This time, Stiles rolls his eyes.

"Come on, I'm not _that _bad."

"Last week you walked into a door and got a big, fat bruise on your cheek." Derek reaches out and runs a finger over the still not quite healed bruise, like maybe somehow Stiles had forgotten it was there even though, you know, it was right on his face and all.

At the mention of it though, Stiles barely holds back laughter.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Uh... no. No. Forget it."

"No. What?"

"It was just funny, is all. Scott... he thought you did it."

Derek drops his hand and a dark, hurt look crosses his face and all the laughter Stiles was barely holding back is suddenly dead in the water.

"Scott thinks I hit you and that's funny?"

"No, see, this is why I didn't want to tell you..."

"Tell me what?" Derek growls, each word sharp and biting.

"Like a sex thing," Stiles blurts out and after he says it he realizes what he just said isn't really a sentence, but it's out there now, so he can't take it back, not the way he phrased it and not what he was actually saying.

"What?"

"He thought it was like a sex thing."

"Oh." And Derek looks down, and it's awkward because another unexpected thing Stiles has learned? Derek's actually not very good at bringing up anything sex related. The whole topic makes him really uncomfortable. You'd think he would be the type to be great at it and totally experienced, with that face, and that body and yet...

Of the two of them, Stiles, whose never really even slept with anyone else, is always the one who brings it up, and it's not like he's really all that great at it, either. Neither of them really knows what the hell they're doing.

"Well, you could, like..." Stiles takes a breath and holds it.

"What, hit you?" At this, Derek sounds disgusted.

"No! I mean, we could..." Stiles trails a finger over the bruise on his face. "Umm..."

Stiles stares at Derek, who is still making a point of staring at the floor, and he sighs. And then he moves in just a little and grabs Derek's chin and makes him look up like he's seen people do in the movies but it's so awkward and weird in real life and Derek is staring at him with his angry face (Derek has a lot of angry faces) and then he just decides screw it, and drops his hands to his sides and kisses Derek.

Because really, what else is he going to do?


	12. Dirty

_Characters: Stiles, Derek_

_Genre: AU, College_

_Notes: __moniee-chan on tumblr a prompted me__: __"__Bathroom Stall. University Setting. um um omg can you imagine the tw boys in a frat house? hahaha."_

**Dirty**

Stiles isn't sure how or why this is happening. He isn't sure how he, a lowly freshman with a mouth he can't shut off or lock down is making out with Derek Hale, the president of the fraternity, the man who had been making his life a living hell for the past three weeks.

Yet here they are, smashing up against the wall, the dirty, filthy, wall in the bathroom of their fraternity.

Of all the places Stiles thought he'd do it for the first time, the bathroom of his frat house was not one of them. Really, he avoids the bathroom to even use as a bathroom, it's that kind of dirty.

It's the kind of dirty that Stiles doesn't even know how to describe, and usually Stiles is very good at describing things.

Like how he'd describe Derek's mouth on his collarbone as being simulateously heavenly and painful. Derek moans something, something unintelligible and dark and Stiles is tempted to ask him why but then he's making noises of his own - his are high pitched and whiny and he hates it but Derek doesn't seem to mind, in fact, it seems to spur him on. "Uh..." Stiles breathes out. He wants to speak. He wants to tell Derek to keep going, to keep doing exactly that. To keep placing those desperate, needy kisses all over.

That's definitely new, always in control, always on top of everything Derek Hale being desperate or needy, let alone both at once.

But he is. He moves back up, and Stiles closes his eyes as Derek moves his mouth to the curve at the bottom of his neck.

_Next up, sixchord prompted me "Stiles plays matchmaker for Erica and Boyd". And then dollyriot prompted me "Stiles is allergic to beestings and gets stung just as the alpha pack is attacking Derek's house. BOOM -" And that one is going to be LONG. Like I need most of the day to write it kind of long, and right now I am at a friend's house, so I'm impressed that I'm even getting this done._


	13. Totally Worth It

_Characters: Erica, Boyd, Stiles_

_Genre: Fluff, Romance, I actually write something that fits with canon for once_

_Notes: Prompted by sixchord: "Stiles plays matchmaker for Erica and Boyd."_

**Totally Worth It**

Suddenly and without warning Stiles is being pulled down the hall by the ear by Erica and the only thing he can do is to yelp. He's dragged into an empty, darkened classroom and for a moment he's scared to think about why.

"What the hell is with you, Stilinski?" she says, firing each word off like a bullet.

"Um, uh," he stammers because really, what is he supposed to say to that? There are a lot of things wrong with him but he doesn't exactly know where to start or, for that matter, why she's asking.

"You. And Boyd. You and... what the hell?" she says, her cool, tough and dangerous act shattering as she stumbles over her words.

"Ummm..." Stiles says. He shrugs his shoulders and blinks slowly.

"You smell like him. You smell like... why do you smell like him? What is... why are you..." Erica is rapidly falling into actual sadness territory and that is not what Stiles had intended with this, not at all. But it's not like he can outright tell her, "Don't worry, I've only been making a point of running into him (crashing into him, more like) and sitting next to him and yes, occasionally rubbing up against him to drive you crazy. Because the two of you are driving me crazy." Because that would completely ruin the whole reason behind him doing that in the first place. So instead of saying all that, instead of saying any of that, he simply shrugs.

Erica lets out this tortured little sound and curls her hands up into fists. "Just... stop, please. Whatever you're doing, just stop."

"Uhhh..." Stiles says and sighs for what feels like the millionth time. Again, he shrugs his shoulders and this time he adds this confused, irritated face, like he doesn't understand werewolves at all or what she's talking about; even though he's become a master at both understanding and manipulating werewolves and he knows what she's talking about because this was his plan all along.

"Just... don't! Okay?" she snaps and suddenly, she flies out of the room, leaving him alone to feel both ridiculously happy and a little horrible for being so incredibly manipulative. In the end he makes himself feel better by telling himself that he had no choice, he had to do it. Erica and Boyd weren't going to do anything about it when left to their own devices so clearly the only thing for him to do was to step in and give one or both of them a push.

The next day, Stiles sees Erica talking to Boyd. She's laughing and he's playfully elbowing her in the side. This makes her laugh harder and it makes Stiles smile.

He doesn't know if she's really filled Boyd in yet, really told him everything he needs and deserves to hear, but it's a start. And it makes the whole thing totally worth it.


	14. Bee Sting

_Characters: Derek, Stiles, Scott, Isaac_

_ Genres: Drama, Action _

_Warning: Swearing!_

_ Notes: Dollyriot prompted me: "Stiles is allergic to beestings and gets stung just as the alpha pack is attacking Derek's house. BOOM." _

_And originally, I intended to post this all today, but I'm going to post the second half tomorrow. Because it is 3 am and I am going to bed now. (There will still be another prompt tomorrow, but there will also be the second half of this!)_

**Bee Sting**

It's a friday night in the middle of the summer and Stiles, instead of doing something fun, doing something normal, is spreading a circle of mountain ash around Derek Hale's house because somehow - he still doesn't know how, even if he replays the whole night in his head and he's done that about four times now - he, Derek, Scott and Isaac are trapped at the Hale House and waiting for the Alphas to arrive and attack. So Stiles is doing the only thing he actually can do. Spread a circle of mountain ash and believe in it strongly enough that the Alpha pack won't be able to get past it.

And suddenly, there's a quick, light pinch on the back of Stiles neck. It's so quick and so light he almost doesn't feel it. He almost doesn't think about it except for that when he smacks his hand at the back of his neck he feels something thick go squish. He closes his eyes, brings his hand to his face and peeks at his hand.

There's a dead bee in his hand.

The only thing he can think is: _Fuck_.

He throws the bee as far as he can and shudders all over. Then he looks down at his other hand, the one still holding the last bit of the mountain ash. The mountain ash he hasn't finished spreading around, the mountain ash that might very well be their only defense against the Alpha pack.

So he curses some more and he does the only thing he can think of. He takes a deep, shuddering breath and continues on. He figures he's got a while before it affects him, a few minutes at least, and then... well, he doesn't know what then. But either he goes down and hopefully Scott remembers the epi pen in the Jeep, or they all go down, and they all go down bloody.

So he picks the lesser of two evils and keeps going, speeding up his pace, focusing all of his energy on the mountain ash, on keeping the Alphas out and protecting the people he cares about; and he does not pay any attention to the way his skin feels like it's about to burn off because that's the level of itchy it is, it feels like it's burning, or the thick, heavy feeling in his throat.

It takes a few minutes, and it takes longer than it otherwise would have, but he finishes the circle and then, having completed his task, he lets himself pass out. Because no way does he want to be conscious for any of this if he can avoid it, and staying awake is taking too much damn effort anyway.

* * *

Five seconds after Stiles passes out, Derek runs outside to see what's taking the kid so long. That's when he sees Stiles lying sprawled out on the ground, his face still and red and swollen and his eyes closed. Derek stands still as a stone for a second before running over and grabbing Stiles awkwardly before lifting him up and dragging him into the house.

"Scott!" Derek shouts as he lays Stiles down on the half-destroyed couch in the living room.

A second later Scott walks in, looks at Stiles and frowns. Isaac follows Scott in a second later.

"What's wrong with him?" Derek barks. He looks over at Stiles and fights back a nervous whine.

"He's allergic to bee stings." Scott tries to smile, to lighten the mood or something, but it only succeeds in making Derek more annoyed. This is not the time for smiling. This is not the time for making light of things. "But he's got an epi pen in the Jeep. I'll go get it," Scott says and without waiting for a response, he takes off for the Jeep and Isaac follows, leaving Derek alone with Stiles.

And Derek just stands there. He just stands there and stares at Stiles. He stares and he watches and he worries. And he can't say anything or do anything because he doesn't even know why it is he's so concerned. And he doesn't want to admit out loud that he's concerned. For_ Stiles_.

Either way, he doesn't get a lot of time to think about it because a few seconds later Scott is running back in and he looks a lot more panicked then he looked before. Without any sort of explanation as to why, he says, "We can't get out."

"What?" Derek barks.

"We can't get past the mountain ash," says Scott.

Isaac looks over at Stiles and shakes his head disapprovingly. "Stiles... he must have been focusing on what he was doing so hard that he put more power into it than he intended to. So it worked. The Alphas can't get in. But we can't get out, either."

At that moment, Derek wants to hit himself. The Alphas. He almost forgot. Somehow, he almost forgot that there was a pack of Alpha werewolves coming to kill him, Isaac, his only loyal beta, Scott McCall, the kid who insists they're not packmates and yet keeps showing up anyway, and Stiles and whatever the hell he is.

Fuck.

He opens his mouth and closes his eyes and runs a hand through his hair. He's really not cut out for this. He might act like he has a clue, like he knows what he's doing, but the truth is he hasn't got a god damned clue. And he's not cut out for it. He's not cut out to be the one in charge, the one making decisions. Not when every decision he's ever made has lead him (and others) not just from good to bad, but from bad to worse.

He can hear it as Stiles' breath hitches in his throat. The kid doesn't have long like this. If they could get at the epi pen it'd be a relatively easy fix, but they can't get at the epi pen because the Jeep is parked just outside the line of mountain ash and they can't get across the line of mountain ash since the only person who can break it right now is the person who set it up and the person who set it up is currently unconscious and probably dying.

So they are, in a word, fucked.

"Fuck," he curses out loud hoping that saying it will help. It doesn't.

Stiles starts wheezing, gasping for breath and in that instant Derek panics.

So he does the only thing he can think of. He knows it's probably the wrong move but the only other one he's got available to him right now is to let Stiles die - because that's what's happening here, Stiles is dying, he'll asphyxiate if they leave him like this - and for whatever inexplicable reason the idea of Stiles dying makes him actually, physically sick to his stomach.

So he bolts across the room before Scott can say or do anything to stop him, drops his fangs and sinks them into Stiles' neck.


	15. Bee Sting pt 2

_Characters: Derek, Stiles, Scott, Isaac_  
_Genres: Drama, Action_  
_Notes: This is part 2 of "Bee Sting" a fic prompted by Dollyriot._

**Bee Sting pt. 2**

Slowly, Derek pulls his fangs back and starts licking at the wound on Stiles' neck. He's licking away the last of the blood when he's forcefully pulled away. He whines and spins to face the person who pulled him away and he's somehow shocked to see that it's Scott.

"What the hell?" Scott yells.

Derek looks back at Stiles and just shrugs. He doesn't know what to say to Scott. He doesn't even really know why he did it. Or why he can't stop staring at Stiles, watching as his chest rises and falls, rises and falls and then stutters.

Derek closes his eyes and tries not to think about it, but he can't help it. He's going to die and now it's because of you, good job. Just another fuck up for your record. You always do this. Why do you always do this? You couldn't make a good decision to save your life. Couldn't even stop to think about how this might also kill him, could you? No, you're not smart enough for that, are you? Not smart enough to stop for five seconds. No, you just see something and you jump. And you fuck it up. And you wonder why nothing ever works out for you. And now he's going to die because of you.

He opens his eyes because much as he doesn't want to see this, he knows he has to see this, has to take it in otherwise he'll just hate himself more and he's not sure he can hate himself more than he already does and keep standing.

He watches as Stiles slowly stops breathing, listens as his heart stops. He wants to cry and he wants to scream. He wants to let his wolf out and howl. He doesn't do any of these things though. No, he just stands there and watches it happen with a practiced blank stare. Because above all, the most important thing is not to let anyone see anything, right? You're pathetic, you know.

Behind him, Scott screams. Derek can hear him moving forward, springing to attack and he doesn't move to stop him. He doesn't fight against Scott - even though it'd be easy with how loud and clumsy Scott is being right now. He lets Scott tackle him to the ground and only barely fights back enough to trick Scott into thinking he's not just letting him win.

They can hear wolves howl outside and they stop fighting long enough to listen. After a second Scott goes back to pummeling Derek but he only gets about four more good shots in before Isaac is dragging Scott off of him and out towards the door with a muttered, "I know, I get it, I do, but come on. We've got to do this."

Derek pauses, looks over at Stiles and heads outside with half of his brain screaming that he should go out and kill as many of these Alphas as he can and the other half screaming that maybe he should just let them kill him.

He's not sure which side will win out, but he's about to find out, so it doesn't really matter too much, does it?

He steps out the door and sees the Alphas charging up to the mountain ash line and they go flying back the instant they hit it.

Isaac steps forward tentatively and pushes his hand out but he can't move it past the line, either.

Derek takes a few steps back and charges off the front porch like his legs have springs in them. He's thrown back by the line and lands flat on his ass.

The Alphas are pacing outside the line and snarling. He snarls back and so does Scott.

* * *

Stiles wakes up with a start and a snarl. He barely has time to think_ wait, did I just... what? What was that?_ before he's up on his feet and following a scent out the door. He doesn't recognize the scent and he instantly thinks, knows, it's a threat. It registers somewhere in his brain that he is not only able to smell things in more detail than he'd ever want to be able to do, he is following that scent, but he doesn't pay much attention to it. He walks outside onto the porch and sees Derek, Isaac and Scott on one side of the mountain ash line and the Alphas on the other side. He doesn't stop to think about it, doesn't stop to question it, he just charges forward. He crosses the line like it wasn't there to begin with and he catches one of the Alphas off guard with a quick, clean slice of his claws through the Alpha's neck. There's a rumbling, clawing feeling in his chest and he lets it loose. The sound he hears is a loud, fierce roar and he can't help but feel like it doesn't fit coming from his mouth.

He stops to think, _Wait. Claws. I... What the hell was that?_ And he's about to completely freak out, just altogether lose it, when another one of the Alphas charges at him, claws flying, teeth gnashing, reaching for any bit of his flesh they can reach so all thoughts of what the hell is going on are pushed aside. The Alpha, a big, brawny, mountain of a man, swipes at him clumsily and he dodges. He almost falls over in his attempt to dodge, and had he still been human, he would have fallen and landed in a big, messy heap, but as it is he only stumbles for a second. Without consciously thinking about it he bends low into a crouch and slashes out with his claws. They tear through the Alpha's thin, threadbare t-shirt and strike at the skin and muscle beneath. They glide through the Alpha, through a person, like a steak knife cutting butter and the Alpha screams and crumbles to his knees. He's not dying, though. He's only down for a few seconds before he's up on his feet again, bloody, torn shirt at odds with his whole, perfect flesh. He howls and charges at Stiles, tackling him to the ground.

Seconds later Derek, Isaac and Scott join him and he somehow finds he's able to keep track of them, of what they're doing without even looking at them. He can smell them. He can hear them and he can differentiate every sound he hears.

This distracts him thoroughly and for long enough for the Alpha to get a good strike in. The Alpha's claws slice through his shoulder, in and then out again in one smooth motion and Stiles screams. A few feet away, Derek stops, looks over at him for a split second before letting loose a terrifyingly sharp growl and stabs the Alpha he's fighting straight through the chest. This one falls down. He doesn't get up.

The Alpha that Stiles is fighting is more or less sitting on top of him now and he's not doing anything, just sitting, waiting, for what Stiles has no idea.

The raw, bloodied flesh of Stiles' shoulder is, it feels like, knitting itself back together and this makes Stiles want to scream again, but this time he holds himself back. He doesn't know what the Alpha pack's game is, but it seems to be using distraction to get at them and Stiles won't be providing any more.

Scott, apparently having finished with whoever he was fighting, charges over and tackles the Alpha off of Stiles. It's at this point that Stiles wishes he knew these werewolves' names, not because he wants to know anything about them - he'd rather pretend they don't exist at all - but because he's getting irritated with having to call them all the same thing in his head.

A second later Isaac walks over and offers Stiles a hand up. Stiles takes it and gives Isaac a grateful smile.

Then there are two Alphas left against the four of them.

The remaining Alphas howl then turn tail and run because, clearly, they have no interest in joining their companions.

"So..." Stiles breathes out. "What the hell?" He holds his hand, his blood covered, clawed hand up in the air and waves it back and forth. 'What the hell is this?"

He looks from Derek to Scott to Isaac and takes in all of their reactions. And not just the way Derek has a guilty look on his face, the way Isaac won't look him in the eye and the way Scott won't stop looking at him dead on but the way their scents change just a little, the way Derek's is a little sharper than it was, the way Isaac's is dulled and the way Scott's is more intense. The way Scott's eyes are as big as dinner plates. How he can hear Derek grinding his teeth and how the sound of Isaac tapping his fingers against the one clean spot on his jeans is as loud as someone screaming if he focuses on it.

He doesn't know what any of it means, but he can sense all of it and it makes him twitch nervously.

"Derek bit you," says Scott and when he says it, there's very carefully, very pointedly, no emotion in his voice.

The only question Stiles can think to ask is, "Why?" He looks over at Derek and Derek looks back, he doesn't look away, but all the same Stiles can tell he's fighting not to.

There's a long, heavy silence before Derek says, "I had to."


	16. I Miss You

_Characters: Stiles, Derek, Erica_  
_Genre: Fluff_  
_Notes: Prompted by KorynnVictoria on tumblr: Stiles is at college and Derek misses him._

**I Miss You**

Derek hates to admit to it, hates to admit to anything, really but... he misses Stiles. Erica recently made him watch a musical called "My Fair Lady" and he thinks it's kind of like that. In the movie, there's this song (because the movie was a musical) where the guy sings "I've grown accustomed to her face". It's something like that. Derek has become accustomed to Stiles just being around. He's gotten used to Stiles' sharp remarks and excessively fast talking. He's used to Stiles just sort of... showing up without any sort of warning. He's used to Stiles haranguing him about his bad eating habits. He's used to Stiles showing up with leftovers and baked goods and whatever the hell else. He's used to Stiles picking the movies they watch (Stiles likes action, comedy and of all things, inspirational sports movies) and now Erica always picks them and she likes musicals, romantic comedies, and for some reason, war movies. And Derek doesn't like musicals or romantic comedies and his life has been enough of a war that he doesn't need to see any more of it. He tries to make Isaac pick a movie every now and then but Isaac is worse, Isaac likes foreign films, the kind with subtitles, and period pieces. And Derek hates those, too.

Derek has gotten used to having someone to tease who will tease him back.

He teases Isaac, but it's not the same. Isaac usually just sort of shrugs it off. He teases Erica, but she usually just reacts with violence. And while that's fun in it's own right, it's not what he was looking for.

Derek has gotten used to having someone he can, for once, talk to without fear of them spilling his secrets. It's funny really, considering how much Stiles talks, but he's very good at keeping secrets and at not judging anything Derek says.

And now Stiles isn't here, he's off at college in New York with Scott, on the other side of the country, and Derek misses Stiles. And he doesn't have a clue what to do about that.


	17. Explain It To Me One More Time

_Characters: Derek Hale, Sheriff Stilinski_

_Genres: Drama_

_Sterek'sbeta gave me this prompt: "a sheriff stilinski and Derek bonding fic." Also, again, thank you for reviewing these! I hope you like this one! And... I don't know... this is what happened._

**Explain It To Me One More Time**

"So," the Sheriff says with this long, drawn look on his face. "Explain to me one more time what you were doing with my son in the middle of the woods in the middle of the night."

Derek tries very hard to not let any expressions cross his face or let anything sarcastic slip out of his mouth. Because how is he supposed to explain this? How is he supposed to explain that he, a grown man was in the woods with a teenage boy because he's a werewolf and they were being chased by a pack of alpha werewolves intent on doing everything possible to kill him and everyone he associates with?

And how does he explain why he associates with a bunch of teenagers in the first place? Why is that a thing to begin with?

Why is this his life? What exactly happened to make it so that this is his life?

He knows that if he thinks about it he can probably piece it together, it's probably pretty obvious, really, but he doesn't want to actually stop and think about it because it's undoubtedly going to be extraordinarily depressing.

"Don't give yourself an aneurism kid, it's a simple question," says the Sheriff and Derek groans internally because apparently, he wasn't doing an even partly acceptable facsimile of not expressing any emotion.

"Uh... I..." Derek says, or rather attempts to say because well, he has to say something.

"Anytime now," says the Sheriff and Derek can't help but notice that while Stiles speaks excessively and quickly and the Sheriff speaks in a very slow, measured sort of way, they both have similar personalities. They both push at other people until they get the response they want.

"I..." Derek shakes his head. "I'm sorry." It's the only thing he can come up with. It's not an explanation and it's definitely not worth anything but it's all he's got.

The Sheriff sighs and it's this world weary, heavy kind of sound. The only thing he says is "Why?"

And Derek doesn't know what to say to that. He doesn't know how to explain that he's sorry he ever came back to town, he's sorry that he couldn't just take his own advice and stay away from all distractions, he's sorry that he got Stiles involved in all this. He's sorry that because of him, Stiles got hurt. He's sorry something bad happened because of him. Bad things are always happening because of him.

But he doesn't know how to explain any of that, even if he could explain about werewolves, he wouldn't know how to explain it, so instead he just shrugs.

"You're going to have to give me something to work with here," says the Sheriff and this time there's a slightly softer edge to his voice.

"I'm sorry, I can't," Derek says. He shrugs again and as much as he doesn't want to,  
he turns around and starts to leave.

The Sheriff puts a hand on his shoulder and Derek stops. "Well I wasn't saying you had to leave if you don't or can't tell me," says the Sheriff.

"Really?" he says and he kind of can't help but hate himself for how desperate he sounds.

"No, I said it to mess with you." The sheriff takes his hand off of Derek's shoulder and walks over to the cheap, plastic chairs in the corner and sinks down into one. He puts his head into his hands and closes his eyes.

Derek stands there for about half a minute before he sits down next to the Sheriff. He doesn't say anything, clearly he's failed in that department, but he can at very least, sit there and offer some semblance of support that way.


	18. Mashed Potatoes

_Characters: Lydia, Jackson_

_Genres: Fluff _

_Notes: For this, sixchord prompted me "something with mashed potatoes". And with the way this fandom is going I could have done something weird with this, but I didn't. Because I am just not capable of that. Also, for the people only reading this on ffn (all two of you :)) sorry I didn't update this for so long! My life has kind of... well, I'll just say gotten in the way and it's been all I can do to just write these and post them on tumblr. But I'm updating it all now!_

**Mashed Potatoes**

"Do you even know what you're doing with that?" Jackson asks with an eyebrow raised sky high as he watches Lydia sloppily stab at the cooked potatoes in the pot.

"It can't possibly be that hard." Lydia's bottom lip juts out just a little and she makes a determined face. "I can cook."

"Yes," says Jackson, "but have you ever cooked?"

Lydia bites back a sigh. "Well, no, but…" She jams the potato masher into the pot and somehow manages to miss almost all of them. It's impressive, really, considering how small the pot is and how many potatoes are in it.

"I can't watch this anymore," says Jackson. He grabs the pot out of her hands and starts mashing the potatoes properly.

"Hey!" Lydia grumbles but she doesn't actually make any sort of effort to get the pot back.

Besides, she kind of hates cooking.


	19. The Barista

_Characters: Stiles, Derek_

_Genres: Angst_

_Notes: Sterek's beta on ffn prompted me: "Hey, if you get a sec can you do a: - jealous Sterek fic." So here it is! __  
_

**The Barista**

Stiles slides into the passenger seat and holds out Derek's black, completely boring coffee. Derek takes it, shoves it into the cup holder and starts the car.

It's silent for about five seconds before Stiles says, "A thank you would be nice."

Derek doesn't say anything, just stares at the road and pointedly focuses on driving.

It's about two minutes of dead scary silence before Stiles says, "Okay, what?"

Derek reaches over, grabs his coffee, takes a long drink, then puts it back.

"Nothing," he says in a way that very obviously means something.

Stiles points to Derek's death grip on the steering wheel and says, "So you expect me to believe that you're just trying to strangle the steering wheel to death for no reason?"

"I said it's nothing," Derek grinds out. He doesn't loosen his grip.

"Come on, Derek. I thought we were past this kind of crap. Just tell me, okay?"  
Derek doesn't respond to this and Stiles smirks.

"Well, if you won't tell me I'll just have to guess." Stiles pauses for a second and looks over to make sure Derek isn't going to say anything. He doesn't.

"Did the store run out of your favorite hair gel?" Pause. No answer.

"Are you still upset about destroying that frying pan? 'Cause I told you, it totally had it coming. Why else do you think I let you cook with it?" Pause. No answer. Again.

"Are you upset because Scott refused to be in the Pack again?" Pause. Still no answer.

"Are you upset that -"

"No," says Derek, abruptly cutting him off and he can't help but be a little annoyed because the next one was going to be "Are you upset that Peter beat you in training yesterday?" He knows for a fact that one is true.

"You were flirting with that girl," Derek says in the softest, quietest voice Stiles has ever heard him use and Stiles knows it's absolutely the worst time for it, but he can't help it. He laughs.

"What? Who?"

"The barista," says Derek and Stiles can't help but notice that as Derek says this his grip on the steering wheel (that poor, abused steering wheel) eases up a little.

"You mean…" Stiles has to fight back a second wave of laughter. "I was just talking to her about comics!" He pauses for a second then adds, completely serious this time, "Please tell me you understand that I get to talk to other people. You understand that, right? I'm not going to be one of those boys who lets his boyfriend dictate things like that."

Derek nods abruptly and Stiles can hear the steering wheel creak. "That's why I didn't want to bring it up."

Stiles opens his mouth to say something but he can't come up with anything so he's left with his mouth gaping open like a dying fish.

"I don't… I mean…" Derek shrugs. "I'm not good at this._ You_ understand_ that_, right?"

This time Stiles nods. "I'm not that good at it either," he concedes.

Derek smiles just a little - well, it's more like the corners of his lips twitch but for Derek that counts - and he says, "Believe me, I've noticed."

Stiles just rolls his eyes.


	20. The Karaoke Bar

_Characters: Stiles, Derek_

_Genres: Fluff_

_Notes: __For sixchord on tumblr who prompted me: "Stiles finally convinces Derek to go to a karaoke bar."_

**The Karaoke Bar**

It's taken months, it's taken begging, pleading, outright cajoling and for whatever reason calling him a chicken, but Stiles finally convinces Derek to go to a karaoke bar with him. He keeps telling Derek that karaoke is really only fun if you get really, really drunk first and Derek keeps telling him that he can't drunk because werewolves can't get drunk because… he starts explaining it but then Stiles cuts him off with a hand wave and a "I meant it's better if I'm drunk" even though he really did forget about the whole weird werewolf metabolism thing. He then spends the next several minutes standing in line at the bar and wondering what life must be like if you're that sullen and unhappy all the time and can't ever even get drunk or get stoned to take your mind off of your problems for just one night.

When he reaches the bar he orders two beers, one for him and one for Derek because yes, maybe Derek can't get drunk but maybe he'll still enjoy it anyway. Besides that, he feels like it's rude to more or less (okay, completely) force Derek into coming and then not so much as get him a drink.

After what feels like an eternity, he's got their beers and walks over to where Derek is sitting, which, of course, is the smallest table in the darkest corner of the bar.

"Nope," Stiles says and carefully shifts the beers so he's holding them both by the neck in one hand. "We're sitting up front." He grabs Derek's hand (and tries not think about how weirdly warm it is) and drags Derek to the front of the bar. Shockingly, Derek doesn't complain. He does scowl like he's about ready to break some chairs and cause some havoc, but that's only to be expected. Besides, Derek rarely actually does either of those things anymore.

They sit and watch the goings on in the bar in a silence that is halfway between companionable and awkward as they wait for the karaoke machine to get set up.

After the machine is set up and the first couple of people have (quite bravely, Stiles thinks) gone up to sing, they start to talk a bit more. Mostly, it's just about how good or bad the person up on stage is, but there are occasionally comments about other things.

Stiles is about three beers in when he suggests that Derek go up and sing.

Derek steadfastly refuses and the scowl that he'd been wearing earlier in the evening makes a return appearance.

"Come ooon," Stiles says, emphasis on the 'o' in on. "Please, Derek. Please?"

It takes another six songs by people that aren't Derek - Stiles has stopped keeping tracking of time in minutes and seconds, he's decided on beers and songs by people that aren't Derek instead - for Derek to finally give in.

"But," says Derek in a way that makes Stiles think he's up to something, "you have to sing first."

Stiles rolls his eyes at this but ultimately agrees. He goes up on stage two songs later and does what he thinks (but what does he know? he's drunk) is a fairly decent rendition of "I Will Survive" by Gloria Gaynor because he's always liked that song. His mom always liked that song, even up until the end.

When he's finished he sits back down and sees that Derek is smiling, legitimately, actually smiling, at him. He figures he must have been either much better (or much worse) than he thought if his singing made Derek, always frowning or scowling or death glaring, Derek, smile. Then he smiles because however good or bad he was, it's Derek's turn now.

Derek picks "Under The Bridge" by The Red Hot Chilli Peppers and not only is he not a horrible singer like Stiles had secretly hoped he was (because Derek must be awful at something, everyone is awful at something) he's amazing. And the song? It's on the list at a karaoke bar, it's a popular song, but it also kind of fits. It also makes Stiles giggle because when Derek sings the line "city of angels" he mentally switches it out for "city of werewolves" and he can't help but find that hilarious.

When Derek finishes, the entire bar starts clapping. A few women demand he sing some more and one (and whoever it is, Stiles wants to punch them in the face) cat calls. Loudly.

Derek looks embarrassed by the attention and Stiles can't help but wonder why. He also can't help but wonder, since Derek probably gets lots of attention, all the time - how could he not with that face? - if that's why Derek's so unpleasant all the time. He can't help but draw attention and all he wants is to be left alone, to go unnoticed. (Stiles would notice Derek even if he wasn't as down-to-the-bones-achingly attractive as he is.)

But this, Stiles thinks, is much too deep a train of thought for a night involving this many beers and the singing of silly songs so he derails it.

Derek slips into his seat and directs his eyes at the table. Stiles looks around the bar to see most of the women (and let's be honest, a lot of the men) are staring at Derek. Derek starts peeling the label off of his beer bottle and tearing it to pieces. He's about to start in on Stiles' label when Stiles puts a hand over his, stopping him. "You want to go?" Stiles asks. Derek nods slowly and doesn't speak, so Stiles grabs him by the hand and drags him out.

They make their way outside as quickly (and quietly, Stiles notices) as they can. Derek grabs the door and jerks it open with one swift motion and it's then that Stiles can't help but notice Derek's arms and just how muscular they are.

They step outside and the cool night air hits Stiles like a slap to the face and for a few seconds he feels significantly more sober than he had thirty seconds ago, sober to the point that it registers somewhere in the logical portion of his brain that he was just staring at Derek's arms, but that sober thought wears off as he gets used to the cold. Then he starts staring at Derek's lips and he starts thinking about what might happen (about how Derek might break something - him) if he were to lean forward and just kiss Derek.

He leans forward, but instead of kissing Derek, he throws up all over the pavement and he almost hits Derek's shoes except for Derek, in a burst of werewolfy speed, jumps back and avoids getting hit.

Derek takes him home in a cab after that and (wonderfully) doesn't say anything.


	21. Laptops Aren't As Scary As Werewolves

_Characters: Derek, Erica_

_Genres: Fluff_

_Notes: __This was prompted by Vampira Maxwell on a03: "I think you should do a little ficlet for the Prompts Project about Derek's technofright or technoignorance. That would be hilarious! o.o"_

**Laptops Aren't As Scary As Werewolves, But Derek Fears Them More**

Carefully, quietly, Derek sneaks into Isaac's room looking for Isaac's laptop. He's made a decision - he's going to call Stiles. Or rather he's going to… he's pretty sure Erica called it "Skype". He's pretty sure that's what video calls are called. He's seen Erica video calling Stiles from her laptop, and he's seen Isaac do the same with his, so he's going to try and find Isaac's laptop and do that.

He's also going to pray that Erica doesn't come home before he's done because she's been harping on him lately that he should just suck it up and call Stiles and tell him that he misses him. He knows she's right, but he doesn't want to admit it. He's not going to admit to it. Even if Stiles is probably just going to tell her the next time they speak anyway. He won't be the one to say it.

After a quick search of Isaac's room he finds the laptop and he takes it downstairs to the dining room. He sets it on the table and for a moment just stares at it. Another thing he won't admit to is that he's no good with technology. It makes him uneasy and it's always made him uneasy. He doesn't know why and he's never really cared until now, until Stiles moved all the way across the country and he was left either calling him on the phone or just sort of watching awkwardly in the background any time Isaac or Erica video called him.

After about a minute he grabs the lid of the laptop and jerks it up. He spends another minute trying to figure out how to turn the thing on and eventually he's so frustrated that he's yelling at it. He pokes at every button he can find and when it turns on it startles him just a little. Then, after a few nerve wracking seconds it finishes starting up and it opens to a screen prompting him for a password and he realizes he doesn't know Isaac's password. He didn't know Isaac had a password.

He tries every password he can think of but he still can't guess the right one.

After about five more tries he eventually just gets so frustrated that he throws the laptop against the wall. It crashes and the screen shatters with a crack straight down the center. He smiles at what he feels is a victory against the machine.

Then he realizes this means that he's going to have to buy Isaac a new laptop and the only thing worse than having to use a laptop is having to go and buy one. He picks up the laptop and throws it again. This time some of the keys fall out of the keyboard and he picks them up and crushes them in his fist. It feels good, but it doesn't distract him from what he knows he's going to have to do.

Outside he can hear footsteps approaching and he can smell Erica so he picks up the bits of what once was a laptop and puts it on the table in as neat a pile as he can.

She walks in to find him sitting calmly at the dining room table with the smashed laptop and her only response is to quirk an eyebrow.

Derek gets to his feet as casually as he can and he says, "I have to go get a new one of these."

"I'll go with you," she says with a smile. "You'll buy the wrong one without me."


	22. Inside Your Head

_Characters: Stiles, Derek, OC_

_Genres: Comedy, Mystery_

_Notes: sixchord prompted me: "College au where Stiles is a psych student. Derek signs up to take part in Stiles' study."__Seriously, I should almost just call this sixchord prompts me stuff. :) Also, it's 3 am and I don't know anything about science. So, the accuracy in this fic. There isn't any._

**Inside Your Head**

Stiles leans up against the wall just outside the doors of the psych building. "So that was… interesting" Stiles says and it's kind of awkward because this is one of those times when a person says interesting and what they really mean is freaky. He just got out of a three hour psychology study he'd set up to test human reactions to lying. The people doing the lying would lie about minute details, ordinary things, things that were believable, all the way up to things that were unbelievable, things like saying you were werewolf or a space alien and the person being lied to, they were asked questions afterwards and their reaction was recorded. It went decently enough, for the most part. However, there was this one volunteer, a tall, dark and scowling man in a leather jacket, who was consistently reported as being a terrible liar. That, of course, wasn't the weird part. Lots of people were terrible liars. No, the weird part was that almost all of the people listening to him said he was very believable with one lie in particular. He said he was a werewolf and not only did he say he was a werewolf, but he created so many intricate details about it that some of the people being lied to almost actually believed him. Or at least they believed he believed it.

Beside him one of the other psych students helping him with the study said, "It was creepy."

Stiles nods his agreement at that because well, yeah, it was.

The doors open and Stiles looks over to see who else but werewolf guy walking out. He doesn't really think about it, he just calls out, "Hey, you!" When the man doesn't turn around, doesn't respond, Stiles adds, "You with the eyebrows!" Because in addition to either being a really skilled liar or actually believing he's a werewolf, this guy has big, fuzzy eyebrows.

This gets the man's attention and as he's walking towards Stiles, Stiles can't help but regret his decision to not only call out to the man, but to insult him. It was stupid really. Especially considering that, eyebrows included, this man is ridiculously attractive.

"What?" werewolf guy says and Stiles can't help but think it sounds a lot like a growl.

"How did you do that in there?" he asks.

"Do what?" the man asks, like he doesn't know. The thought occurs to Stiles that maybe he really doesn't know, maybe lying like that just comes so naturally to him that he doesn't even notice when he's doing it.

As a result of this thought, Stiles is left staring dumbly at the man.

"That thing in there, where you said you were a werewolf and seemed to be able to almost convince people you believed it," says the other psych student.

The man just shrugs and he looks kind of… nonchalant about the whole thing. "I dunno," he says. "Wasn't that the point of the whole thing? To convince people of a lie?"

Stiles finally comes back to himself enough to say, "Well, kinda, I guess," even though it really wasn't.

"Oh, well, whatever," says the man and with that he turns around and walks away.

It isn't, of course, until many years later that Stiles found out that the man he'd talked to was Derek Hale and Derek Hale was, actually, a werewolf.


	23. Shut Up

_Characters: Stiles, Derek_

_Genres: Angst_

**Shut Up**

Things, Derek thinks, have been going well. Okay, maybe well is too strong a word. But not terrible, and that's a definite improvement. He has an actual pack now and he and Stiles… well, he and Stiles.. he's not sure what they are, but they're not nothing and that's something, sort of, right?

So he's completely shocked when one day, out of the blue (or at least it is to him) when Stiles shows up at his house with a sad look on his face and eyes that are brighter than normal.

And then, Stiles says it. "We need to talk." And that's all he says, those four words and as he says them there's no arm flailing, no hand movement, no explanation. Just four words.

And that's how Derek knows he's really in trouble.

They argue for hours until they finally reach that point where they're past all the pretense and the silly fights about stupid things that don't matter and they're down to the real heart of the argument.

"At some point we've got to be something other than the boy who talks too much and the man who blames himself for everything. And you're never going to take that step. Are you?" says Stiles.

And Derek, as he's been doing this whole time, well he just shrugs.

He knows he has to say something, though. He opens his mouth, says, "I…" and he stops. He doesn't know what to say. He never knows what to say. That's the problem.

So instead of trying to express himself he just shrugs again.

"You what? You what exactly? Could you please for once speak and say what you're thinking because do you know how tiring it is having to guess everything based on your facial expressions?" Stiles says and his voice is a step away from a shout.

At this Derek scowls, his brows drawing down into one big fat line and a crease appearing between them.

Stiles smiles, but it's dark. "You know, I've been working on cataloguing all of your different looks. And that one's #76. It means you're confused. That's a shock, you confused about something."

Derek glares, his eyes tightening around the corners and the muscles in his jaw twitching. He wants… he wants to… he doesn't know. If Stiles would just…

Stiles eyes' narrow and he said, "Look number #18. That one means you're a little annoyed."

Derek frowns, his eyes becoming half-lidded and his lips pursing just a little. He wants to explain himself, but…

"Look number #27. That one means shut up Stiles, I'm thinking. I would shut up if you'd tell me what you're thinking."

Finally, Derek says, "I'm thinking that if you understand me so well why don't you understand this isn't really something I do?"

"That was it?"

"I don't do well with this talking thing, or maybe you've noticed."

Stiles crosses and then quickly uncrosses his arms. "I've noticed. So what? That gives you an excuse to never say anything at all?"

That has him stumped, but he tries to actually say that. Instead he says, " I… I don't know."

Stiles huffs and then he scowls and he says, "You know what I know? I am so done with this. I am so done with you. I am so done with interpreting every little look, every little touch, every little thing you do. Because it's obvious that you're just never going to do anything about any of it."

Finally, Derek finds a decent counter argument. "Well, why don't you -" Stiles cuts him off. Of course he does. "Bring it up? I've tried. I've tried about eight times now and every time I do you just change the subject, you do something that makes me… that makes me… You know what, no. I'm done here."

Stiles turns and leaves and Derek doesn't stop him.

—-

Several hours later, when Stiles is just about to get into bed and go to sleep, Derek crawls in through his window.

"What part of I'm done do you not get?" Stiles says without bothering to look over at Derek.

Stiles sighs, like he's irritated with himself. "I was just about to close and lock the window, too."

Derek walks over to the edge of the bed but then takes a few steps back. He almost leaves. He stands there for about ten seconds, just fighting his urge to leave. Instead, he says, "For once, shut up."

Stiles gives him an indignant look. "Why should I? No, really, give me one reason why I should."

Derek glares and reaches out and puts a hand over Stiles mouth. He leans in.  
"Because I have something to say."

He leans back and takes his hand away from Stiles mouth.

He takes a long moment to focus, to think. He's got to say this right and he's got to say this now. "I don't get you, okay? I don't understand anything you do to begin with but you… you… you seem insistent on just being around. Just showing up. All the damn time. And I don't get it. Why?"

"What do you mean?"

Derek glares. "Not done talking."

Stiles huffs at this, but for once, says nothing.

"You're intelligent, you're clever, you're determined, you're loyal, you care about people. You're kind and passionate and you have this habit of drawing people together. And me? I'm a jackass. On a good day. I'm a fuck up. I'm rude, I'm difficult and I can't for the life of me figure out how to not drag everybody down around me. So, why?"

Stiles looks like he's about to have an aneurism and Derek wonders why, but he's not about to let that derail him, not right now. He always feels that way around Stiles, though. Like he's a train that's just being thrown clear of the tracks. He both loves and hates that someone else is capable of doing that to him.

After a moment of awkward, painful silence, Stiles says, "You should add impossibly hard on yourself to that list because you really don't get it, do you?"

"That's what I just said, didn't I? I don't get you."

"No, the person you don't get is yourself. You might be a jerk, you might be gruff and difficult. But you're also more determined than anyone I've ever met. You're stronger than anyone I've ever met. I've never seen anyone have the level of shit thrown at them that you have and keep on going."

Stiles pauses, and bites his lower lip to keep from smiling.

"And you… you don't even act like it's that complicated, like what you're doing is all that difficult. You just take it all and keep going and you never complain, even if you've got more reason to than anyone else."

Stiles smiles now and it's a very earnest sort of look.

"I… I talk a lot. And I can't help it. I'm always thinking about eight different things at once and I can't help it, can't turn it off. Unless… you're around. You… I don't know what it is but you… you just… you make it all stop. You just… just by being there, you just… make it stop."

Derek blows out a breath and looks down to hide the smile on his face. He doesn't… how could… He is definitely derailed this time, but he still manages to come up with, "So I guess you're not so done with me after all?"

Stiles just rolls his eyes, moves over in bed and tells Derek to shut up.


	24. Talking To You

_Characters: Stiles_

_Genres: Tragedy, Character Death_

**Talking To You**

Stiles lays with his body splayed out in the aisle of the cemetery and his head resting up against the headstone. It's a beautiful, sunny day and he's brought with him a lunch and a book. He's spent most of his time talking, though.

"So Scott went running at full speed to try and save the cake as it went flying but instead of catching it, it landed on him. So there we were with a dozen six year olds in the backyard waiting for the cake and… then there was no cake, not unless we wanted to try and peel it off of Scott and put it back together and believe me, I considered it. You do not want to see a bunch of unhappy six year olds. But then Lydia came in, demanding to know what was going on and she saw Scott standing there, covered in cake and me and Allison were trying not to laugh. And then Lydia laughed so we laughed and Scott pouted. And then Lydia walked to the cupboard at the back of the kitchen and grabbed, what else, another cake. Because, according to her-" and Stiles puts on his best Lydia voice for this part, "I knew you'd screw up my only daughter's birthday party, so I bought an extra cake, just in case. I also brought presents, but fortunately you at least got that right." He laughs as he finishes his story and it sort of trails off. It's difficult, he's learned, talking to dead people.

"You know, it's funny, you talk about as much now as you did when you were alive." He says it like a joke. Like it's a joke he shares with… well, like he shares jokes with dead people. Really, the whole thing is kind of sad. But then, that's always been his life, hasn't it?

He reaches over for his lunch bag and fishes through it to see if there's anything left. There isn't and he's just considering going to the nearest store and getting something else when in the distance, a car horn beeps.

He looks up to see that Scott and Allison are waiting for him at the other side of the cemetery. He waves at them broadly and gets to his feet.

He pauses a second, then turns back to the headstone and runs a hand over the name. "Nice talking to you, as always, Derek," he says. "You're still an ass, though."

Stiles knows it's stupid, just like he knows it's weird to come here and talk to what is essentially just a big block of stone, but he can't help it. He's never going to forgive Derek for this.


	25. Werewolf Bar Mitzvah

_Characters: Stiles, Scott_

_Genres: Fluff_

_Notes: __The song "Werewolf Bar Mitzvah" was prompted to me by thecruxie on tumblr. __Thanks to her, I have now listened to this song half a dozen times in a single day._

**Werewolf Bar Mitzvah**

"…I opened it up and to my surprise there was a werewolf standing there with glowing gold eyes…" Stiles sing-songed along with the song and let out a laugh. This song was hilarious. And ridiculous. And-

Behind him, someone laughed.

He spun around in his desk chair so fast he almost fell out of it. Scott was standing just inside the window and laughing at the song. "What's this?" he asked.

"What's with just showing up in my room? Have you been taking creeper lessons from Derek?" Stiles scowled and righted himself in his chair.

Instead of responding to that, Scott cracked a big grin and said, "No, really, what's this?"

Stiles shrugged. "Werewolf Bar Mitzvah."

"Huh." Scott got a look on his face like he was thinking. "Like Jewish werewolves? I wonder if there are actually any Jewish werewolves."

Stiles shrugged again. "I dunno." Because of course, that'd be the part Scott would pick up on. And of course he would wonder if it was possible, if there were Jewish werewolves. Really, there probably were. But they probably just had normal, ordinary, regular bar mitzvahs. Not this crazy, weird sort of a set up.

Besides, Frankenstein, vampires and zombies? Those didn't exist. Well, Stiles was pretty sure they didn't exist.

Then Tracy Morgan said, "I don't like this, this is, this is scary. Turning into werewolves and stuff," and the song ended.

Scott nodded towards the computer. "That was the dumbest song I've ever heard."

"Just for that, I'm going to play it again." Stiles spun his chair around and hit the play button again. Scott walked over and leaned up against the desk.

Once the song got past the dialogue they both sang along, "I was working late on my Halftorah when I heard a knock on my bedroom-doorah, I opened it up and to my surprise there was a werewolf standing there with glowing gold eyes…" And they both burst out laughing.

At least the song got the glowing gold eyes part right.


	26. Concentration

_Characters: Stiles, Derek_

_Genre: Fluff_

**Concentration**

"Ugh," Derek growls. He spins his pen around in his hand and then throws it at the wall. He looks down at all his carefully arranged papers and starts to consider throwing them at the wall, too.

"It can't be that bad," Stiles says from his position sprawled out on the couch in the tiny living room in their tiny apartment.

"It is," says Derek. He spins around on his chair and glares at Stiles, like this is all his fault. And really, it kind of is. After all, it was Stiles idea that he apply to colleges and finish his degree.

"What are you so hung up on?" says Stiles. He doesn't bother to look up from his book about all the different fonts and different types of fonts, otherwise known as one of the twenty most boring books in the world with the other nineteen being Stiles' other design related books.

Derek sucks in a sharp breath then without really letting it out, says, "Why did you leave school previously?" He lets out a sigh. "What the hell am I supposed to say about that?"

"Well," says Stiles as he jumps up from the couch, class reading completely forgotten, "if I were you I'd leave out all the werewolfy bits."

Derek rolls his eyes with extra exaggeration. "Oh, really? I was thinking that'd be the first part I'd bring up."

"Oh, come on," Stiles says with a smile. He walks over to Derek and kneels down in front of his chair. "You don't have to give them your life story, just put… death in the family, that's all they'd need."

"Yeah, just put death in the family, like that's easy," Derek snaps.

At this, Stiles simply raises an eyebrow.

"Sorry, I-"

Stiles nods. "I know." He grabs Derek's hand and twists their fingers together then starts swinging their joined hands back and forth and back and forth because Stiles is still utterly incapable of being still, even five years later.

After a few seconds, Stiles say, "You know… you could come sit on the couch with me."

"And be bored to death by you talking about how fascinating your find your new major? No thanks," says Derek because honestly, out of all the majors Stiles has picked so far, new media and design is by far the worst.

"No…" Stiles says, trailing off with a deceptively innocent grin.

"Oh," says Derek.

"Yeah."


	27. The Waterboy

_Characters: Stiles, Derek_  
_Genre: Fluff_  
_Notes: Sixchord prompted me: "Another college au where Derek is a baseball player and Stiles is the water boy" And then she tried to explain baseball to me and... instead I wrote this because I'm lazy. Also because I thought it was funnier if Stiles was a waterboy for a baseball team and knew nothing about baseball._

**The Waterboy**

"Hey Waterboy," shouted one of the seniors. "More water!" Without a warning, he threw his water bottle at Stiles and it hit Stiles in the head. Stiles wasn't sure if the senior, Randall, intended for it to hit him in the head or if he just assumed Stiles would catch it; either way, getting hit in the head with a plastic water bottle was not a good way to start off the day. Stiles sighed heavily and rubbed at his head for a moment. He'd been at this for six months now and so far, not one member of the team had even bothered to learn his name.

He grumbled to himself about how he hated this, how he hated baseball and pretty much all sports as he bent over, grabbed the bottle and took it over to the water cooler. He filled it up, his irritation still flowing hotly through his veins, and took it back over to Randall.

He didn't even thank him for it, just grabbed it and grunted.

Then one of the other players, Derek, said, "Uh... it was Eric, right?" Stiles had to try not to make a face at that. Eric? How the hell do you get Eric from Stiles? He'd told this guy his name about six times in the past two weeks.

But instead he just nodded, going along with it because hey, Eric was at least a step up from Waterboy, right?

That was when the weirdest thing happened. Derek laughed. That guy never laughed, ever. All he ever did was scowl, even when someone did... whatever you call hitting the ball really far.

"I know your name's not Eric," he said, full-on smirking now. "You said it was Stiles, right?"

"Yeah, why?" Stiles asked. This was getting weird. Why was this guy being so nice to him after more or less ignoring him for months on end?

"No reason," Derek said with a shake of his head. "I just wanted to thank you for all your help."

He walked away after that. Stiles spent about an hour after that thinking over just what that was or what it was supposed to be and he couldn't figure it out.


	28. Ambushed

_Characters, Isaac, Stiles, Derek, Sheriff Stilinski_  
_Genres: Drama, Angst_  
_Notes: justnerdzombie on tumblr prompted me: "Stiles gets hurt, and the pack is guilty, TADA!"_

**Ambushed**

Arms flailing, Stiles runs. He's breathing loudly and not entirely refraining from screaming and he doesn't care. He really just doesn't care anymore. He just wants to run, to get away. He needs to be away from this.

He's just reached the edge of the woods when someone jerks him back behind a tree.

He can't see who it is and he doesn't fight them off.

"Stop being so loud or I will hurt you before they get the chance."

Isaac. Of course it would be Isaac. Who else would it be? Stiles tries to move away, but he can't, Isaac's arm is too strong and wrapped around him too tightly.

Then he says something stupid. "We'll get him back."

Isaac snarls softly and for a moment, his arm tightens around Stiles to the point where Stiles is finding it hard to breathe.

A second later Isaac releases him and he takes a generous step away. He bites down on his lower lip to keep from wheezing, but it doesn't matter, the sound of his frantic breathing just escapes from his nose instead of his mouth.

Isaac glares angrily at him for a moment, but the look is quickly and too easily replaced with sadness and panic.

"We'll be fine," Stiles says softly because, apparently, he still hasn't learned that reassurance is clearly the wrong tactic to be using here.

"We need to keep moving," Isaac says and with that he takes off into the woods. He doesn't wait or look back, he just goes.

So Stiles, being frazzled and completely done with all of this about six times over, runs to catch up to him.

That's when they're ambushed. Isaac shoves him out of the way, but he shoves him too hard and because of it he trips and stumbles and he falls too hard. His head hits a rock and he hears a distinct crack and feels a flash of pain but he's too dazed to know exactly where it came from.

He hears howling and the sounds of claws tearing at flesh. He hears footsteps, more people have arrived, and he hears more howling.

Then he hears very human screaming.

And then he passes out.

When he wakes up he's almost startled to find himself lying in a bed and pleasantly warm and drowsy. He yawns a little and looks around. He's in a hospital bed, the loud crack was his leg breaking (it's in a huge cast) and the warm fuzzy feeling is either from all the blankets they've got him covered in or whatever they're sending into his veins via the IV they've dug into his hand.

Or both.

Really, he doesn't care.

He yawns again and watches the door for what he feels might be a few minutes to a few seconds. He doesn't know how long it's been but eventually his Dad walks in with Scott's Mom and a cup of coffee in a chipped, beat up mug.

He smiles beatifically at his Dad and doesn't say anything. He doesn't really have anything to say for once. He's shocked to find he almost kind of likes it.

His Dad doesn't say anything either, just gives him this look Stiles knows means he's concerned, but also angry and Stiles is going to hear it once he's able to properly function.

For now, though, his Dad just walks in and sits down in the chair next to the bed. Scott's Mom hangs around for a few seconds then runs off to deal with some other disaster. Stiles can't help but think that being a nurse has got to be one of the toughest jobs there is, but the thought doesn't stick around for long.

An indeterminate amount of time later, Derek shows up with Isaac in tow. Stiles almost laughs at the whole recalcitrant puppy look Isaac's got on his face. It's so different from the expression he usually wears, the badass, angry look he's copied from Derek. That look doesn't fit, but this one doesn't really fit either.

No, the only look that really fits on Isaac is the dopey smile he tries so hard to hide any time Scott is around.

Scott...

Stiles shakes his head at that. No, he doesn't want to think about it. He hasn't seen Scott and he doesn't want to think about it.

Derek clears his throat - he's still hovering in the doorway and Stiles actually does laugh at the awkward, extra super duper uncomfortable look on Derek's face.

His Dad folds up his newspaper (because his Dad is old school and still reads the paper on you know, actual paper) and grunts out, "I'll be in the hall." He walks to the door and nods at Isaac. Isaac pauses for a second, looks at Derek and Derek looks back. Apparently, somehow this means, "Isaac go stand in the hall with the Sheriff" because that's what Isaac does.

Not that Isaac wouldn't be able to overhear any sort of awkward conversation within at least like fifty feet, but he goes and stands in the hall anyway.

"Well," Stiles drawls. "Did you just come here to stare at me or what?"

Derek looks away, not that he was really looking at Stiles in the first place, but now he's looking at the floor.

It's a long time before Derek says, "I'm sorry."

All Stiles can say to this is, "Wha-huh?" And really, that's not a word, but he's blaming that on the drugs.

"You." Derek points at Stiles' broken leg, like Stiles hasn't yet noticed it's broken or something. "That."

Stiles has no words for that, but that doesn't stop him from spitting out a whole bunch anyway. "I don't even know what you mean by any of that."

Derek goes to raise a hand to his face but drops it about halfway there. "I... I'll just... I'll come back later."

For a moment, Stiles thinks he gets it, so he says, "It's fine, really. It isn't anyone's fault." And really, he doesn't think it is. If he's remembering correctly, yes, Isaac shoved him, but he was shoving him out of the way, so it doesn't really count. Really, if anything, it's his own two feet that are to blame. Well, his feet and his balance or rather his lack thereof.

Derek looks inordinately pained at this and Stiles can't help but wonder why. "Dude, it'll heal. It'll all be fine."

"No. It won't," says Derek and he's using his usual, rough, gravelly tone but there's something about his eyes that's making Stiles feel nervous. And not nervous in the usual oh-god-he's-going-to-kill-me sort of way, but in a weird and sad sort of way.

Neither of them can find anything to say after that so Derek turns around leaves. He doesn't say goodbye or anything, just turns and walks away.

And Stiles decides the best and only way to handle this is by taking a nap, so he closes his eyes.

And of course, he can't sleep. All he can think about is how sad Derek looked and how he has no idea why he seemed to be so bothered by that.


	29. Even A Human Would Notice

_Characters: Stiles, Derek_  
_Genre: Fluff, Maybe a little bit crack_  
_Notes: VampiraMaxwell left a comment on 'Ambushed' that said: "like maybe one day when Stiles's dad is out of town for work (a seminar or retreat or something? Dunno, something) and the rest of the pack is all busy Stiles gets a high fever and Derek takes it upon himself to play nursemaid because Stiles is pack and nobody else is there to do and SOMEone has to. Except Derek's really, really bad at it. Determined, but not so good with the whole nurturing thing. And Stiles? Awful, uncooperative patient. o.O" _

_And I took that as a prompt._

**Even A Human Would Notice**

When Stiles wakes up, after a full night's sleep, thank you very much, he feels violently ill. He feels so violently ill that when he sits up he heaves and for a second he's sure he's going to lose every bit of chinese food he ate for dinner last night all over his sheets. When he doesn't, he breathes a sigh of relief and flops back down onto the bed.

He gets up a few minutes later with one hand on his stomach and one on his forehead and feeling more or less like the living embodiment of death, but he's determined. He's got a midterm today and he's not about to let the last two weeks of studying go to waste. He's got a perfect grade in this class so far, in all his classes so far, and he's not about to ruin that because his body has decided now is the absolute perfect time to be sick.

He hobbles over to the bathroom and takes what is probably the longest and hottest shower of his life.

It doesn't help.

He hobbles back to his room, feeling utterly pathetic, and gets dressed in the first clothes he finds.

Ten minutes later (he needed two to get dressed and eight to lie on his bed to gather his strength) he walks down the stairs and is almost at the door when Derek walks in.

He doesn't mean to, but the words, "Oh, crap, you're here," slip out. Most days he'd be, well, not exactly excited to see Derek, but it doesn't really bother him like it used to, either.

Derek stares at him for a moment then points to the couch in the living room and says, "You're sick. Go lie down. Now." He uses his official commanding voice, like Stiles is one of his betas and he has to do what Derek says. He doesn't, of course, he hasn't before and he's not going to now.

"Not happening," says Stiles and he starts walking past Derek. "And besides that, why are you here?"

Derek frowns, well, more like the frown he was already wearing deepens, and he says, "You asked me to give you a ride to the college today, remember?"

"Oh, crap," Stiles says again because oh, yeah, he did. Silently, he starts cursing his Jeep for breaking down, Scott and Isaac for being out of town for the week and Lydia for well, for refusing to drive him anywhere.

Derek tilts his head to the side for a fraction of a second then straightens up, like he thinks he needs to be even more intimidating than he already is. "I'm not driving you anywhere anyway. You're barely standing as it is. Even humans would notice."

"Actually, I'm fine, thanks," Stiles says, even though Derek's right, it's taking most of his not inconsiderable willpower to keep from just dropping to the floor right now. "Besides, I have a midterm today."

"Well, I'll... well..." Derek sputters and his whole face crumples up in what is either anger or annoyance or maybe both. "Just.. you can call the school or something, okay?"

Stiles would laugh at that if he wasn't sure it would make him throw up. "Why do you care anyway?"

Derek raises a hand to his face and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Because you're pack, all right?" He pauses before he says, "And because I'd rather not have Lydia or Scott kill me when you end up in the hospital over this."

"Hey!" Stiles says, offended, or at least doing his best job of acting like he is. "I thought we were past all the threats."

Derek drops his hand from his face to ball his hands into fists at his sides. "I'm not saying I'm going to beat you up. I'm saying if I let you go to school, you won't last the day and they'll end up sending you to the hospital."

Stiles eyes dart around, looking anywhere but at Derek. He hates to admit it, but the couch is starting to sound awfully comfortable right about now. And Derek is probably right. He'll probably fall asleep or worse in the middle of his test.

He's about to go and sit down by his own free will when Derek steps forward, grabs him by the hand and drags him over to the couch. Stiles doesn't say anything about this, but he doesn't sit down, either.

So Derek, being Derek, drops Stiles' hand and pushes him down by the shoulder. "Sit," he says, and Stiles almost laughs because a werewolf just told him to sit, like he's a dog. Derek walks off in search of Stiles doesn't know what, but before he's out of earshot, Derek says, "And take your shoes off."

Stiles does, but only because his shoes were horribly uncomfortable anyway. Gently, Stiles lies down on the couch and he's almost asleep by the time Derek returns. He fully intends to ignore Derek until he throws the biggest blanket in the house (the thick, quilted one Stiles' grandmother made for him) on top of him.

Stiles just barely opens his eyes and grumbles, "No blankets," before shoving it off. He closes his eyes again.

There's dead silence for a few, uncomfortable seconds and Stiles opens one eye to see Derek standing in front of him looking quite possibly the most disgruntled he's ever seen anyone look, ever.

Stiles yawns. "What are you doing?"

Derek frowns and in an instant, scoops the blanket up off the floor and drops it back on Stiles.

He doesn't do anything after that, just stands there and stares. And Stiles stares back.

Then he takes the blanket off again. "You win. I'm not going to school. You can go home now."

"If I didn't know that you would get up, call a cab or worse, walk to the school the second I leave, I would." Derek doesn't grab the blanket again, but Stiles sees him eyeing it.

"So, what then? You're just going to stand here and stare at me all day?" He refuses to admit to the fact that Derek of all people was right about something. He would try and go to school. He'd probably nap for an hour first as his midterm isn't until his second class and his first class is just going to be review today anyway, but still.

Stiles looks up at Derek and he can't help but notice that Derek seems to be blushing just a little. "Well, no..." says Derek lamely.

"So sit down and turn the tv on, you weirdo," says Stiles. Derek makes a face, one Stiles is sure is Derek's version of embarrassment, and he sits down on the edge of the couch. He grabs the remote and turns the tv on to Netflix. He picks, of all things, Captain America.

"We don't have to watch this," says Stiles. "You can pick something you actually like."

"I did," says Derek, like the thought to pick something he doesn't like for someone else's sake never even occurred to him.

They sit in silence for a few minutes before Stiles grabs the blanket off the floor.


	30. Crash Into You

_Characters: Scott, Isaac_  
_Genres: Fluffiest fluff to ever fluff, no seriously, though, there's something wrong with the level of fluff that comes out of my brain_  
_Notes: The wonderful and amazing sixchord prompted me: "Scott takes Isaac to a skating rink because Isaac has never been and adorableness ensues."_  
_Also, go follow her on tumblr. And on A03. Because she's a fabulous writer. And a fabulous person._

**Crash into you**

"This is a horrible idea," says Isaac as he fumbles with the laces on his skates.

"It's definitely the opposite," says Scott. Scott already has his skates laced up and is ready to go, so he's just standing, watching Isaac and doing his best not to laugh out loud at the fact that Isaac's been fumbling with lacing up his skates for the past two minutes. "It's a great idea."

"I'm telling you now, I'm probably going to crash into you a bunch of times," says Isaac.

"Yeah, 'cause that's the worst thing that could ever happen," says Scott with a grin.

Isaac just shakes his head and finally, finally manages to finish lacing up his skates and stands up. He takes a step and wobbles just a little. "See?" he says, like this proves everything.

He grimaces and Scott laughs. Scott opens his mouth to say, Isaac is sure, how fun this will be. Isaac holds up a hand and stops him. "Don't even try and say it."

Scott fakes being oblivious, which, considering how often he's actually oblivious, isn't hard. "Say what?"

Isaac takes another step, wobbles, and this time nearly falls. Scott steps forward and puts a hand on Isaac's shoulder, steadying him a bit. "Fine, I won't say it. But I will say I don't get why this is so hard. You're great at lacrosse."

Isaac huffs, irritated and they make their way out to the ice. Scott drops his hand from Isaac's shoulder and before he can do anything else Isaac grabs his hand and squeezes it like he wants to break it. "Lacrosse is played on grass, in shoes. This? On Ice? It's not the same thing."

"Yeah, but," says Scott and his eyes flash yellow momentarily to prove the point he's about to make, "it's not any more difficult."

They move forward, skating up the middle of the rink.

"And what? That's somehow supposed to mean I can just magically -" Isaac moves forward just a little too quickly and his feet start sliding out from under him. The only reason he doesn't fall flat on his ass is that Scott grabs his arm with both hands and holds him upright. "I hate this," Isaac curses quietly.  
After a few seconds, he sort of regains his balance and they skate the rest of the way over to the side of the rink. Isaac grabs the ledge with his free hand and it nearly cracks under his grip.

They skate about halfway up the rink with Isaac holding onto Scott's hand with one hand and the ledge of the rink with the other. He has a look on his face that gives the impression he's actually, actively being tortured by this. There are a few other people on the rink, another couple, two older women skating laps and talking, and two eight year olds skating along behind them, one spinning and twirling as she goes and the other just making a point of going as fast as she can.

So, basically, everyone, even the small children, are better at skating than Isaac.

"You really hate this, huh?" Scott says and he can't help but laugh.

"Really? What gave it away?" Isaac snaps. He rolls his eyes and drops his hand from the ledge. He raises the hand still gripping Scott's hand and grumbles, "This part is okay, I guess."

Scott smiles and he gets this adorable, happy, dorky sort of look on his face at that and Isaac can't help but smile right back at him.

"Do you want to go take the skates off and get hot chocolate instead?" Scott offers.

Isaac nods so vehemently he almost loses his balance again. "Uh-huh."

Scott laughs and slowly, carefully, leads them over to the nearest exit and somehow Isaac manages to get off of the ice and remove his skates without falling over. He considers this an accomplishment.

They walk sock-footed over to where they left their shoes and halfway there, Isaac grabs Scott's hand. Scott gets that dorky, happy look on his face again and Isaac wants to tease him for it, for how ridiculous he looks, but he's sure he's got a similar sort of look on his own face, so he doesn't.


	31. It's never enough

_Characters: Scott, Isaac, Derek  
Genres: Drama  
Notes: In which vincent on tumblr prompted me: "I'd be curious to see a fic based in the boxing world." I didn't get much done with this, but I like it, so I definitely want to write more of it later._

**It's never enough**

Scott isn't sure what to expect when he walks into The Triskelion Boxing Club with Derek. He's more or less new in town and so far, the only person who knows anything about boxing that he's met is Derek. Derek is, well, he's one of those people you can really only describe with their name, like their name has to suffice as a descriptive word because there's just really no way of adequately describing them.

"So, how many people on average come here?" Scott asks as he looks around the gym. It's an older building and older is putting it nicely. The equipment has definitely seen better days and there are all of three people in the main room, if there even are any other rooms, and Scott isn't sure there are.

"Not too many, it's pretty quiet," says Derek and Scott can tell in the way he says it that he thinks this is a main selling point of the place. Scott isn't so sure. But then, he's not used to places like this, not anymore. He grew up in Beacon Hills, but he's become used to bigger cities, bigger gyms, just in general more going on.

But then he supposes it doesn't really matter. He's really only here because Stiles convinced him to come back to town to train for the next couple of months - until he's really ready to get back into the ring again. Well, officially, anyway.

He takes another look around the gym and this time he pays more attention to the three other people in the gym. One of them is in the corner, beating a punching bag to death. He's tall with pretty boy good looks that make Scott wonder why someone with a face like that would decide to get involved in a sport that involves getting punched in the face a lot. The other two are in the ring in the center of the room. The ring is dusty and grayed with age, but neither one of the fighters seem to care. The one guy is just tearing the other one to pieces. The one getting his ass kicked looks terrified, he looks like he's thinking this fight was a bad idea, like maybe fighting in general is a bad idea. The other one though? He's fierce in a way Scott hasn't seen very often and not for a very long time. There's a sense that there's a sharp pain behind that fierce edge, behind every punch the guy is throwing, and it instantly makes Scott curious.

"I know that look," says Derek before Scott has the chance to so much as ask who the boxer in the ring is. "And don't bother."

"What? Why not?" Scott can't help but be a little bit offended at that. Derek's never seen him fight, he doesn't know his skill level. He's just recovered from a huge injury, sure, so he'll probably lose. But Derek doesn't know that. And besides, maybe a fight against a strong opponent is just what he needs.

"Just trust me on this," Derek says softly enough so that neither of the men in the ring can overhear him saying it. "You don't want to fight him."

"Well, first, how about you tell me who that is."

"His name is Isaac Lahey. And like I said, you should stay away from him."


	32. Like a twisted abstract painting

_Characters: Stiles, Derek, Isaac, Scott, Lydia, OMC_

_Genre: Tragedy, Drama_

_Notes: justnerdzombie prompted me: "Okay, so a hunter sprays the pack with a wolfsbane that makes them wolf out, in hopes that theyll kill each other. But what he didn't realize was Stiles was with them! oh no! "_

_…Well, I'd say I'd hope I gave you what you asked for but… this is really, really dark, so I kind of doubt it. It's also from the pov of the bad guy because apparently a switch in my brain has flipped from from super fluff to super dark._

**Like A Twisted Abstract Painting**

There is one thing and one thing only that Edwin Roberts knows. His goal in life is to kill as many werewolves as possible, as brutally as possible.

He's long since given up on any sort of reasoning, any sort of belief that what he's doing is the right thing.

That's what he used to think, that he was doing the just, noble thing. That he was saving other people's families from the same agony he's been through.

But that's a lie.

It's cold, calculating vengeance that he's after. It's wrong, he knows that, but he also knows there's a purity to his mission, a calm and a peace to it that he knows he will be unable to find anywhere else.

So far, he has killed eleven werewolves. It's an odd number, he knows, but after his eleventh kill, he decides to take a break, a vacation. He's by no means done, he's not even close, but he feels like he should take some time off, rest a while and recover a bit. It would be horrible, after all, if he were to be killed in action because he didn't stop to rest.

So he gets in his car and drives with the intention of stopping in the first place that catches his eye.

The first place he finds interesting is Beacon Hills, California.

_(Warning. Past this point is major character death.)_

He books a room in a quaint little inn and plans to stay in town for a week, maybe two. Basically, as long as it takes for him to feel like he's back to his full strength.

Of course, life is rarely that simple or that accommodating.

Beacon Hills, it turns out, is full of werewolves and ultimately, Edwin just sort of shrugs and supposes that there really is no rest for the weary. So he carries on with his mission.

He doesn't do things like other hunters do. But then he's never really qualified himself as a hunter. They have rules, or at least most of them do, and most of those rules involve only tracking down werewolves that kill other hunt the bad ones. Edwin doesn't make that distinction between good and bad. Not anymore. Besides that he… he's less a hunter and more what you might call an exterminator.

So he doesn't give the werewolves a warning. He doesn't announce his presence and he doesn't give them any big sort of speech warning them not to step out of line or else.

No, what he does is much, much simpler and so much more fun. He watches them carefully from a safe distance until he's learned their habits. He's learned they routinely get take out from the same pizza place, they gather at one of their houses for a video game night on thursdays and on sunday nights? They all go for a run in the woods.

He carefully considers each option available to him and eventually he settles on the pizza as his method of attack. He sets up a bug at the pizza place and re-routes all calls from their home number to his phone. When they next call for a pizza he answers, takes their order and goes and orders exactly those pizzas from the pizza place.

Twenty minutes later he's standing outside their house with the pizzas in hand, but the pizzas aren't just pizzas. He's sprayed the boxes with a special type of wolfsbane. This particular variant, his personal favorite, causes a werewolf to lose all control, take their true form and attack anything they see. The best part? It's completely colorless and odorless. There's no way for them to see it coming until it's too late.

Fortunately, it takes about fifteen minutes to kick in, so by the time it does, he's a safe distance away.

He takes a deep breath, smiles, and rings the doorbell.

A few seconds later a tall boy with ridiculously curly hair and bright eyes opens the door. He smiles when he sees the pizzas and says, "How much do I owe you?"

"That'll be twenty-two fifty," Edwin says politely. He waits as the kid pulls forty dollars out of his pocket.

"Here you go," he says as he hands the money over.

Edwin nods and slips the money into his front pocket. He takes the appropriate amount of change out of his wallet and hands it to the kid with a nod and a "Have a good night".

Then he walks down about eight blocks to his car and sits and waits with his binoculars and his own little pizza. He locks the doors, just to be safe, and digs in.

At first, it's dreadfully boring just watching them eat the pizza and talk and laugh. But then the wolfsbane starts to take effect.

He can see them tilting their heads back and howling. Their faces stretch and their eyes change color and Edwin smiles. This is the good part.

Seconds later, they turn on each other and it's vicious and brutal and quick.

But not all of them go on the attack; not all of them shift forms. One of them stays the same. One of them is human.

Apparently, this pack has a human pet. He's seen this before but it's sad every time he sees it. It makes the tiny, remaining bit of his soul cry out for that person and the terrible, horrible decisions in life that have lead them to this point.

He keeps watching though, much as he might want to look away.

He watches as the curly haired one stabs a red haired female straight through with his claws. Then a darker haired one attacks him and they go down fighting.

That's when the human makes his escape. The human is out the door in an instant and he isn't looking back. He's got big, fat tears streaming down his face and as he runs in the general direction Edwin has parked his car, Edwin can hear the kid screaming.

Edwin almost thinks the kid is going to get away, almost wants him to, when one of the werewolves runs out of the house after him. This one is tall and built like a solid wall of muscle. Edwin zooms in on him and sees he has the red eyes of an Alpha werewolf. He almost wishes the kid could get away, the kid seems smart, smart enough to run, anyway, but an unarmed human against an Alpha? He hasn't got a chance.

The Alpha starts catching up to the kid and that's when the kid does something incredibly stupid.

He stops. And then he turns around.

"Please, Derek, please!" The boy screams. "Please! Stop! You're better than this. Whatever this is, you have to -"

The boy's words are cut off as the Alpha slashes a big, clawed hand at his throat.

The boy falls and the red of his blood spills out of his neck and splashes across the pavement like some sort of twisted abstract painting. The werewolf howls at his victory but then somehow, and Edwin's never seen this before, seems to come back to himself. His face changes back to his human one and the look on that face… Edwin doesn't believe monsters are capable of it, but it looks like anguish. The monster looks at the boy, then looks down at himself. He's covered in the boy's blood. He screams. He screams and he screams and he screams and then, and Edwin's not sure if it's out of a sense of mercy or just to get the thing to shut up, he takes out his gun, rolls down his window, takes aim, and fires a wolfsbane bullet right into the monster's head.

The bullet hits the mark and the monster crumples to the sidewalk, next to the boy.

Edwin starts his car after that and he can't help but smile. That was a lot bloodier than it usually is, and it was a lot louder, but either way, he has succeeded in his goal.

And he has now killed sixteen werewolves.


	33. Just go to bed

_Characters: Stiles, Derek_

_Genre: Fluff_

**Just go to bed**

_Amost finished…_ Stiles thinks, his mind starting to get foggy with sleep. He's been working on this essay all day, it's due tomorrow and he's almost done, there's only a few hundred words left.

"Just… come to bed already," Derek calls out from the bedroom. "Finish your essay tomorrow."

"No," Stiles calls back. "It's due tomorrow."

"So get up early, then," says Derek.

"Nope." Stiles stares at the screen, he doesn't type anything, he just stares. He has to finish this. But he's so freaking tired…

That's when Derek walks out into the living room and unplugs the computer. He doesn't say anything, he just stares at Stiles. Stiles stares back and he tries to come up with something clever to say, but he can't come up with anything. So instead he just shrugs, shakes his head and goes to bed.


	34. Cheap

_Characters: Stiles, Derek_

_Genre: fluff, well, fluff with some cursing_

**Cheap**

"Fuck," Derek curses as he throws the screwdriver down.

"And here I thought you were so good with your hands," Stiles says from somewhere behind him and Derek doesn't have to turn around and look to see the big fat smirk on Stiles' face.

"This thing is broken," Derek says. He points at the still not fully assembled bookcase. He's been trying to put it together for a while now, he doesn't actually want to think of how long exactly, and the pieces just… don't fit. But then he probably should have known that was likely to happen, buying furniture for his new apartment from a place with cheaper crap than IKEA. Thinking about it, he's not sure who he's more mad at - himself, for thinking he could get away with getting something so cheap, or whoever designed the damn thing. Because clearly, this was never meant to actually be assembled, let alone actually function.

That's when Stiles laughs and that's it. Derek's done. He's just… done with it. So he turns to face the bookcase, lets his claws out and slashes it to cheap wood (if you can even really call it that) falls to pieces so quickly and with such little effort that it's almost sad.

At this, Stiles makes a disgruntled noise and says, "You know, we could have returned that."


	35. It's all okay in the end

_Characters: Stiles, Derek, Scott, Isaac, Lydia, Erica_

_Genre: Fluff_

_Notes: __the fantastic justnerdzombie prompted me: "So, Stiles gets a kind of minor injury, like a broken arm or something, and he has to go to the hospital for like two hours, but it was caused by the pack in some way. like, they were training and they got too rough with him or something. Then fluff. like, movie night or cuddle puddle or pack meeting and its fluffly."_

**It's all okay in the end**

They're playing, of all things, tag when it happens, because apparently, they're all a bunch of six year olds. They're playing and it's fine and it's fun but then Erica tackles Stiles to the ground (even though tackling is illegal, after the fiasco that was the last time they played) and there's an overly loud crunch and then he screams. Then she screams and scrambles to her feet. She has a wide-eyed, spooked look on her face and she asks him, "Are you okay?"

He shakes his head, no, then sits up slowly. He moves his left shoulder a little and grimaces.  
That's when the others stop and notice.

"What happened?" Scott asks, sounding just a little nervous.

Stiles raises his good hand to his left shoulder and blinks slowly. "I think my shoulder's dislocated." He says it in a stunned, quiet sort of way, like it hasn't really quite hit him yet.

Scott walks toward him first and helps him up to his feet. He's giving Stiles this appraising sort of look and before he can say anything, Stiles says, 'No, Scott. Don't even think about it."

"What?" Scott says, eyes wide in obviously faked shock, like he wasn't just thinking of trying to pop Stiles' shoulder back into place by himself.

"I'm not an animal, you're taking me to the hospital," says Stiles firmly.

"Fine," Scott says. He doesn't argue, he just walks Stiles to the front of the house where his car is.

Scott (and Isaac) take Stiles to the hospital to get his arm fixed and spend almost the entire drive bickering about whether or not either of them could really do it themselves. Isaac thinks he could do it better, he's been working with Doctor Deaton a lot more than Scott has recently, but Scott thinks he could do it better because he's been working there a lot longer. Stiles reminds them four separate times that no, they're going to the hospital and he's getting this fixed right. He's not going to be a guinea pig for them, or at least not any more than he already is, anyway.

Erica, unfortunately, is left at the house with Derek and Lydia. She's expecting Derek to start yelling at her (and silently blaming himself for letting Stiles play with them at all, like he really has any control over what Stiles does) but instead, it's Lydia that starts in on her as soon as Scott, Isaac and Stiles are gone.

Lydia starts going on about how she and Stiles are human and while they shouldn't be treated as fragile or breakable, they shouldn't be treated the same as a werewolf for the obvious reasons such as when they break something it doesn't heal right away. About five minutes into this topic, Erica starts to wonder if they're both going to yell at her or if Derek is just letting Lydia handle this because Lydia is actually much better at this end of things than he is. Derek is good for threats, for fixing things, but no one beats Lydia at guilt. To get Lydia to stop, Erica apologizes, then promises to apologize to Stiles when he gets back. Lydia just barely accepts this and stops with her attack. Erica is sure she'll be hearing about all this again, probably more than once, but she considers it a win that Lydia has stopped, at least for now.

Scott and Isaac bring home a drug-hazy but patched up Stiles a few hours later and after Lydia scolds Stiles for playing tag with a bunch of werewolves and Derek looks him over, making sure he's okay, everything is good again.

They do what they usually do and order some pizzas and some chinese food to top it off and put on a movie.

They end the night all piled up together on the couch with Stiles telling them about the way the special effects were created for the low-budget monster movie they're watching. Nobody really listens, but they all pretend like they do, because they figure they should be nice to him since he's injured and also because they know if they don't he'll just complain about how they're not listening and he's injured. And his being injured means they should listen.

So, really, it's all okay in the end.


	36. An important question

_Characters: Lydia, Peter_

_Genre: Drama_

**An important question**

Peter walks down the street slowly, behind Lydia. She's decided that today she's ignoring him, but this doesn't bother him. He needs to ask her something, and he's going to ask her, whether or not she wants him to. He walks a little closer, so when he speaks she can hear him.

"Lydia," he says softly. "Do you think…"

"That you're a creep, a weirdo, a psychopath?" She pauses but doesn't stop walking. "Yes, I do."

He smiles slowly. He loves that not only is she not scared of him, after everything, after all these years, but she just says the first thing that pops into her head, she doesn't care who he is, how dangerous he is capable of being. She just says whatever she wants to say.

"No, I was going to ask…" He wants to ask her, needs to ask her, but he can't quite bring himself to do it. He has to do it, and It has to be her, he knows that much. She's the only one who understands him enough to fully understand the question and the only one brave enough to answer honestly. Well, maybe it's not bravery. Maybe it's cruelty. He knows she wants to hurt him and she'd be happy using honesty to do it.

He wants to ask her if she thinks he's capable of loving someone, truly loving someone. He's bitter and torn and broken but… apparently, even the bitter, torn and broken still want things like love. He can still remember that before everything he was capable of love. He was married, and he'd loved his wife. Really, that's probably why he's as destroyed as he is now. He had everything he'd ever wanted, he'd had love, and he'd lost it, he'd lost it all.

And yet… he would like to, someday, be able to feel that way again, to love someone again.

Not Lydia, of course. But someone. Eventually.

"You know what? Nevermind. I'll ask you later," he says with a sharp shake of his head. He crosses the street after that and a few blocks down the road he turns off down some side street, he isn't paying attention to which one, it's just so he isn't following her anymore.

After a few minutes he decides on tomorrow. He'll ask her tomorrow.


	37. Never ever let you go

_Characters: Stiles, Derek_

_Genres: Drama_

**Never ever let you go**

Stiles lightly knocks on Derek's bedroom door. Derek is sitting at his desk, making notes in a large leather bestiary and he doesn't look up. "Isaac let me in," Stiles says, like he thinks somehow Derek didn't already know that. He heard Stiles' Jeep pull up outside a minute ago; he knew Stiles was here and that Isaac let him in. He was just wishing that maybe Stiles was here for something else. And that maybe if he pretended Stiles wasn't here then he wouldn't be and this wouldn't have to happen.

A few seconds pass in the most awkward silence imaginable, but he still doesn't look up and doesn't respond. Stiles awkwardly mumbles, "We…you… umm…"

"We need to talk. I know," Derek says softly. He knows they have to, has known for a while that they would, but he really, really doesn't want to.

"Okay, so…"

"Yeah."

"Um…"

"I guess…" Derek breathes out. "Just come sit down."

"Okay." Stiles walks into the room and sits down on the edge of Derek's creaky, old bed. Derek still pointedly looks down at the book on his desk, even if he's stopped writing notes into it. It's not doing him any good, after all he doesn't really need to look at Stiles to know he's there, but he does it anyway.

"So…" Derek says. And that's it. For a good thirty seconds, that's it. And for once, probably the first time ever, Stiles doesn't try and fill the silence. Finally, Derek manages, "This is really hard for me, alright?"

All Stiles says is, "I know."

"I… I'm sorry. I… I just…" Derek runs a hand up the back of his neck and it just sort of stops there. This, being brutally honest about himself, has never been a strong point for him. It's almost funny, really, considering how he's so brutally honest about everything else.

"Whatever it is, say it," says Stiles and there's a sharpness to his words that Derek wishes he wasn't the cause of, but he knows he is.

So he gathers up all of his courage and he says it. "You terrify me."

"I what?" And finally, Derek sits up and turns around. When he looks at Stiles there's this completely goofy look of confusion on Stiles' face that, under any other circumstances, would be downright comical.

"Okay, not you, but… that this… that you… maybe you've noticed. Things pretty well never go my way. I can't name one thing that hasn't gone horribly wrong eventually. And I can't play the victim, either. Usually, it's my own fault. So…"

"So you've been avoiding me not because you bored with me, but because you're afraid of messing this up?" Stiles looks inquisitive now, like he's determined to get to the bottom of this, to fully hash this out. He also looks just a little bit relieved.

"Well, sort of," says Derek. "More… I'm afraid this getting messed up is inevitable. Wait… bored with you?"

"Well, yeah." Stiles shrugs his shoulders in what Derek is sure is supposed to be a nonchalant way and definitely isn't. "Yu play so hot and cold and you've been cold for a while, so I figured that you were just playing around and got bored."

"Got bored. Got… got bored. Got bored," Derek says it repeatedly, like saying it over and over again will make it clearer somehow. It doesn't. The idea of someone getting bored with Stiles doesn't make any sense. Getting annoyed with him, sure. But bored? Not real likely.

"Well, it was just a theory. I mean, I had other ones involving you being an idiot rather than an indecisive jerk." Stiles smiles at this in the way he smiles at most of his own jokes.

"Uh-huh." Derek looks down at his shoes.

"But back to you. Ummm… so…"

"So… what?"

"So… so you think you're sacrificing your happiness to keep me safe?"

Derek nods slowly, yes. That's exactly what he's doing. And if he's honest, he plans to keep doing it. He knows what he wants, he always knows what he wants, but he also knows when other things are more important than what he wants. He's perfectly willing to admit that usually he's a selfish bastard. But sometimes? Sometimes he is actually capable of doing something decent.

"Did it ever occur to you that you're also sacrificing my happiness?" When Stiles says this, he can't help but look up again, it's almost like a reflex. And irritatingly, Stiles' face is almost completely blank, so the only thing he can think to say is: "What?"

"Don't feel bad, I don't get it either," says Stiles with a self-assured little grin, "but I like it when you show up and I like you. If you stop showing up, well, that's not protecting me. It's the opposite."

"Okay, but…"

"No."

"What do you mean, no?" he growls.

Stiles smiles a genuine, almost fond sort of smile at this and Derek wishes he wouldn't. Partly, because it's so impossibly disarming and partly because he never wants anyone to know that a scrawny little human boy who almost never shuts up can disarm him just by smiling. "I mean, if you make a point of doing what you think is all noble and heroic, well, I'm going to stop you. Someone has to."

"And how exactly do you plan on stopping me from doing… whatever it was you were alluding to?"

"Well, that's easy. I'll just track you down and refuse to leave until you use your words and tell me whatever it is that's going on." Stiles leans forward, his elbows on his knees and now he isn't smiling. He's just looking at Derek dead on with his best serious face.

And he really doesn't know what to say to any of that, so he doesn't say anything.


	38. Waiting

_Characters: Lydia, Derek, Peter, Danny_

_Genre: Drama_

**Waiting**

It's weird when Lydia doesn't see Jackson for a few days after the whole thing with Allison's grandfather and the werewolves and Jackson dying and coming back to life. But it makes sense, for those first few days, it makes sense. She thinks he's just getting himself together, organizing his thoughts, making sense of all of it.

When she hasn't seen him for a week, she starts to worry. She doesn't let anyone know she's worried, of course. She just starts looking for him.

On the eighth day she tracks down Danny and asks him where Jackson is, thinking that if anyone will know where Jackson is, it'll be Danny. Danny says he doesn't know, he hasn't seen Jackson since he found out Jackson somehow didn't die on the Lacrosse field, even though he saw it happen. He says he didn't even find out from Jackson himself, he just heard about it from gossip at school. Danny is angry and she almost wants to do something, to help him, but she's got her own problems to deal with so instead of telling him everything, telling him anything, she just nods and walks away.

After two weeks, she tracks down Peter Hale. She considered, at first, tracking down Derek, but after some consideration she goes after Peter first instead because Peter owes her. Maybe he doesn't think he does, but he does and she's going to make sure he makes good on that debt.

So she goes up to the Hale house one afternoon and asks Peter point blank where Jackson is. Peter tells her he doesn't know and while she'd like to think he's just an evil, vindictive, cruel bastard, she can tell he's telling the truth. He honestly doesn't know.

The next day she tracks down Derek. She's almost certain he won't know anything (he almost never knows anything) but she's nothing if not thorough when she's set her mind to something. So she tracks him down and asks him if he's seen Jackson. He hasn't. He asks her if she's seen Erica or Boyd, but she hasn't. She's tempted to talk to him about all of this, to ask him all her questions, but it's obvious he's dealing with his own problems right now and won't be of much use. So she doesn't bother asking him anything else.

She's tempted to go talk to Stiles about it, not necessarily to ask him where Jackson is (there's no reason he would know) but just to talk to him. But she doesn't. She hasn't talked to him since that night and she doesn't have any real desire to change that. She's always known he had a crush on her, it's been obvious since sixth grade, but before that night she didn't know exactly how big or how deep that crush went. And if she's honest, it creeps her out. Up until recently she'd never really thought of him much, but then they'd started hanging out and she'd started to see him as a possible friend, maybe even a real, actual friend but then… that night… and now she can't talk to him anymore.

She considers going to talk to Allison, because clearly Allison is in on the whole thing, but she doesn't want to bother Allison right now. Allison hasn't even been in school for the past week and Lydia just doesn't know how to deal with why that is, so she's just not going to.

And that's it. She's out of options. She's got nothing left that she can do. Jackson has already been reported by his parents as a missing person. The Sheriff and every person employed by the Sheriff's office, down to the girl who answers the phones, has been out looking for him every night and every day. And so far, nothing.

It's like he disappeared into thin air and she's left waiting for him to come back, if he's ever going to come back. She's not sure he is.


	39. Perfect

_Characters: Scott, Isaac_

_Genres: Fluff_

**Perfect**

Slowly and as carefully as he can, Isaac rolls away from a still sleeping Scott. For a moment, he just lays there, watching Scott as he sleeps. He shakes his head just a little, then reaches across the bed to his bed side table. He gently opens the top drawer and doesn't pull anything out but he looks in at the key sitting in the drawer. Rings are not their thing, a ring would be weird, but… a key? This all started with a key, so to end it with one feels kind of perfect to Isaac. This all started five years ago when Scott gave him a key to his house, gave him a place to stay and without actually saying it out loud, gave him a home. It wasn't really the house that was home to Isaac, though. It was Scott. It's always been Scott.

He's going to ask Scott, his boyfriend of the past four years, to marry him tomorrow. He's going to give him the key and ask him. And he knows Scott will say yes. Of course he will. But he's nervous anyway; the idea makes him nervous anyway.  
He closes the drawer and for a while, just lays there.

He's going to ask Scott to marry him tomorrow.


	40. This is it

_Characters: Scott, Stiles, Sheriff Stilinski_

_Genre: Drama, Tragedy_

**This is it**

_Oh, god,_ he thinks. _This is it, isn't it?_ He can feel it. He's going to die.

It's a little ridiculous, really. That this is what's going to get him. He's escaped being torn to shreds by other werewolves, survived the kanima and survived almost being attacked by hunters and god knows what else and ultimately, this is the thing that's going to kill him. A car accident.

A car accident killing a werewolf, go figure.

Stiles ran off a while ago, looking for help, so now he's alone. He's alone and he's bleeding to death and all he can think of is Isaac. He's cold, even though it's the middle of August, and he wants Isaac here. Or no, he doesn't, because then… then that would mean that Isaac would have been in the crash and maybe Isaac would've gotten hurt. And that wouldn't be any good.

But then it's entirely possible, if he weren't so stupid, that he wouldn't have ended up like this.

He starts replaying it over in his head for about the eighth time.

They were driving and laughing about some dumb song on the radio and suddenly the Jeep's brakes blew out and Stiles lost control. The Jeep went off the road and smashed into a tree. At first, Scott had thought he was fine but then he looked down and saw a tree branch sticking straight through the windshield and into him. He couldn't feel it and it didn't look that bad so without thinking, he ripped it out. He, of course, assumed that being a werewolf he'd heal and everything would be fine. But then it wasn't. There was too much blood too quickly and even werewolf healing couldn't keep up. When he realized he wasn't going to heal from this he screamed. That was when Stiles woke up. He was a bit dazed for a second, then he looked over, saw Scott, saw the blood and started screaming. Once he stopped, he said everything would be fine, he'd go and get help and everything would be fine, and he ran off.

And Scott can feel it. He's not going to be fine. He's is it.

He wishes he hadn't gotten into that argument with Isaac. He doesn't even remember why he thought it was so important at the time. He can't believe his last words to the guy he loves will be an argument. And Isaac doesn't even know how he feels. Isaac doesn't even know he loves him.

Up on the road there's the sound of a car passing, then slowing down and stopping. There's a bright light from the car's headlights flooding everything and someone is rushing down the hill towards him. For a moment, Scott convinces himself it's Isaac. Isaac has come to rescue him. "Isaac…" he says with a dazed smile.

But then the person says, "No, Scott. It's the Sheriff. Hold on, we'll get you out."

Scott pretends it's Isaac anyway. "I love you, you know," he says before he closes his eyes.


	41. Sleeping in the woods

_Characters: Scott, Stiles_

_Genre: Comedy_

_Notes: justnerdzombie prompted me: "Stiles. Again… Anyway, so the kanima, for whatever reason, paralyzes him in the woods at night, and from there it could go a few ways:_  
_1. Stiles is left there overnight, and no one finds him until morning, because everyone seems to forget about Stiles._  
_2. Jackson finds him a little bit later, and then leaves him because he's a douche_  
_3. Either Scott or Derek find him, and they're all happy and stuff."_  
_And I'm going with the 3rd one!_

**Sleeping in the woods**

"Damn it," Stiles curses quietly as he runs. He looks back to see if the Kanima is still chasing him and that's when he runs straight into a tree. He yelps and falls to the ground in a mess of limbs and curses and the Kanima, who apparently was still following him, is on top of him in a second. The Kanima lets out this odd sort of noise and this serpentine tongue flicks out of its' mouth and Stiles shudders. The monster sniffs him, then slashes his claws weakly at Stiles' neck. The claws scratch his skin, but don't break it. The monster makes that odd little noise again and runs off. Stiles doesn't care why, he's just glad the thing is gone. He's about to get up when he all of a sudden realizes… he can't. The thing has fully paralyzed him. Because that's what Kanimas do. They paralyze people.

He spends the next hour on edge and mentally twitching at every single noise until he realizes that the Kanima isn't playing with him, it isn't coming back. He relaxes for about five seconds until he realizes that even if the Kanima isn't coming back to kill him he's still stuck in the forest until either the venom wears off or someone finds him.

A few hours later, not that he wants to, and actually he spends a really long time fighting it, he falls asleep.

Stiles, wake up," Scott mutters as he kicks Stiles' foot. Stiles groans in response so Scott says again, "Wake up."

Stiles groans a second time but he peeks out of half-lidded eyes at Scott. What the hell, man?" Scott demands. "I've been looking for you all night! Why are you here?"

Stiles struggles to remember exactly what happened, why he was out in the woods in the middle of the night and it takes a moment but he remembers. He was going to the abandoned train station Derek has weirdly claimed for his own to ask if he knew more than he was saying about what was going on. Or rather to demand Derek tell him what he knew because Derek always knew more than he was saying. But Derek hadn't been home and neither had anyone else and…

That was when the Kanima had showed up. And without thinking, he ran from it. It chased him into the forest, at which point he less than gracefully ran into a tree and got attacked with venom.

But he's not about to tell Scott that he actively went looking for Derek so instead of explaining all that he says, "Oh, no reason, just felt like sleeping in the woods, in the dirt by this lovely tree here." He nods his head back to the tree he ran into last night and smiles in a less than friendly sort of way.

"Seriously?"

"No, Scott." Stiles sits up and glares at Scott. He knows Scott knows what sarcasm is, it'd be impossible for him not to at this point, but he hates that looking like he doesn't know and asking an obvious question is Scott's only response to it. "I got attacked by the Kanima last night. It paralyzed me."

"Oh," Scott says and nods. Stiles is a little sad that this is what their lives have amounted to. That being attacked by a supernatural creature is neither frightening nor cause for alarm anymore.

Scott yawns then smiles. "Well, do you want to go get some breakfast?"  
"When have I ever turned down food?" Stiles gets to his feet and brushes the dead leaves and twigs off of his jacket.

They walk to Scott's car, or more like Scott's Mom's car, in silence and Stiles is thankful that Scott doesn't bring up what he was doing out in the woods alone at night again.


	42. Breakable

_Characters: Lydia, Allison_

_Genre: Drama_

**Breakable**

Lydia shudders. Her shoulders spin up around her ears and don't come down. She feels awful, just dreadful. She ducks forward in her seat and struggles not to lose the pasta she just ate for lunch. Absently, she wonders if that's what's making her feel so sick right now. Or maybe it's something else. Like how Allison just told her everything in excruciating detail.

She'd known before now that werewolves existed, that terrible things were going on in Beacon Hills, a town she forever past this point wouldn't be able to see as anything but dangerous, but now she knows everything. And it makes everything that's happened make so much more sense. The things that have happened to her, even the things she doesn't and will never admit to out loud. The things Allison has said in the past few weeks. Jackson's weird behaviour. It all makes a lot more sense now that she knows all of the details.

At the same time, she wishes she didn't know. She didn't like knowing what she knew before, but now that she knows even more? It's too much. She's got more than enough to deal with without having to choose a side between werewolves and hunters, without having to fear for her life because immune or not, she's still just human. She's just human. And she's never thought of herself as being vulnerable or breakable, and she'll still never admit to either if questioned, but she feels pretty damn vulnerable right now. She feels pretty damn breakable knowing that there are monsters out there that can rip her to shreds without a second's thought.

Allison, for her part, pretends she doesn't see anything. She doesn't try and be comforting, she doesn't do anything. She just sits there and waits for Lydia to pull herself together.


	43. Chicken Soup

_Characters: Boyd, Erica, Stiles, Derek, Isaac_

_Genres: Hmm... comedy, I guess_

_Notes: justnerdzombie prompted me: "okay, so pretty please the pack takes a trip to the grocery store, and they play some kind of prank on Stiles. I'll admit it, I lied. It's kind of Stiles-y. But hey! I like Stiles, everyone likes stiles! (Just for extra inspiration: Prank can occur involving a certain someone being thrown into dog food, a problem with werewolf noses and scented candles, locking him in a dresser, etc.)" And this one turned out to be really, really hard because I'm not a person that pulls pranks. I've never really even seen many. So. Yeah._

**Chicken Soup**

It's a perfectly ordinary tuesday when Erica walks up to Boyd while he's reading Watchmen for the hundredth time and asks him if he's ever pulled a prank before.

He looks up from his book, gives her a calculating stare and asks, "Why?"

"That's not an answer," she huffs as she flops down next to him on the couch.

"Why?" he asks again, more forcefully this time.

"I'm bored," she says, like this is the most obvious reason for anyone to do anything.

"Okay," he says, drawing out the 'o'. He grabs the TV remote and turns the TV on. He turns on the Xbox, goes into Netflix and pretends to be particularly interested in searching through the top ten suggested things for something good to watch. He makes a point of not looking at her.

"Are you in?"

He shrugs slightly. "Depends."

"On?"

"Who and what," he says succinctly. He starts flipping through the horror section of Netflix and still refuses to look over at her.

"Okay. Well, who would be either Scott, Stiles or Isaac. And as for what… well, how about I leave that up to you?" Erica leans back on the arm of the couch and starts absent mindedly twisting one of her curls around her finger.

Boyd is silent for a good ten seconds while he thinks it over. "Stiles. And we could…" He pauses and taps a finger to his lips. "I don't know."

Erica scrunches up her nose and says, "Hmm… we could… no…. " She raises her hand to her mouth and bites down on her thumb. "Or we could…"

They're both silent for a few seconds before Boyd says, "Nope. I've got nothing."

Erica sighs. "This is probably why I've never done this before."

"Yeah, this is why you've never done this before," Boyd says with an overly dramatic eye roll.

"I don't see you coming up with any ideas," she snaps back.

Boyd shakes his head at her for a split second before he starts fishing into his pocket for his phone. "I'll just look some up then," he says as he opens the browser and searches for "funny pranks".

They go through a few websites before finding a prank that they think will work.

The prank involves putting a bouillon cube into the top of the shower head and waiting for the target to take a shower. Supposedly, the cube melts in the hot water and makes the person who just showered smell funny. It also might dye their skin a bit yellow.

So, prank chosen, the next day they go to the grocery store and buy some bouillon cubes. Erica also buys a magazine, a chocolate bar and some hairspray because she can't get over feeling like going to the grocery store just to buy bouillon cubes is kind of weird. Not that, as Boyd points out to her once they're out of the store, buying bouillon cubes, a magazine, chocolate and hair spray is somehow any less weird. Or, more importantly, that anyone else even cares what anyone buys at the grocery store.

They set up the prank for the next day after they buy the bouillon cubes. They know Stiles always showers after coming home from his night class, so they wait until then to do it. They have a whole plan, or Erica does anyway, for what they're going to do.

When Stiles comes home that night, Erica immediately distracts him by asking him if he'll look over her paper for her history class. As she's talking, Boyd slips down the hall to the bathroom to put the bouillon cube in the shower head. Boyd gets about half done before he hears Stiles tell her that he'll do it after he has a shower. Boyd panics for about half a second before whispering, "Not done yet! Stall!" loud enough for Erica to hear but quiet enough that he knows Stiles won't.

Out in the hall, Erica asks Stiles to just come look at her paper for a few seconds, she just wants to make sure she's got the formatting on the footnotes right and Stiles begrudgingly agrees. Boyd hurries, using all of his werewolf strength and speed, to quickly finish his task.

Ten minutes later (because Stiles couldn't look at just the footnotes) Stiles walks into the empty, unassuming bathroom with no idea about what's about to happen.

Erica and Boyd wait in the hall as he starts the shower, Erica trying not to burst out laughing and Boyd trying to look like he's not as amused by all this as he actually is.  
It takes about two minutes before Stiles screams like he's being attacked and Erica starts laughing.

He walks out into the hall in a towel, his skin stained a dingy yellow in spots and smelling like chicken soup.

"What the hell?" he demands with a look that's almost Alpha glare worthy.

Erica, in between bouts of uncontrollable laughter, points at the shower head. Stiles turns his head to look, but doesn't seem to understand. He looks to Boyd, clearly looking for answers and that's when Boyd cracks up. "I'm sorry, man," he says. "That was just… You just…"

Stiles turns around abruptly, walks back into the bathroom and slams the door. Inside, Erica and Boyd can hear him turning on the bathroom sink and trying desperately to scrub himself clean. It doesn't work, they know because they can still smell it on him and they burst out laughing again.

Approximately five minutes into Stiles' attempt at scrubbing his skin off in the bathroom, Isaac and Derek get home. Erica and Boyd can hear Isaac sniff the air and say, "Who made chicken soup?"

Erica giggles and Boyd outright laughs.

Isaac walks back into the kitchen and Derek walks down the hall, headed, Erica supposes, for his bedroom. He stops halfway down the hall and gives the still laughing Erica a curious once over. Boyd just shrugs because he doesn't really want to explain it, least of all to Derek.

"Stiles," Derek says loudly, probably a little too loudly, as he knocks on the door. "Why do you smell like chicken soup?"

In the bathroom, the sink is turned off and Stiles groans. "Don't ask."

Out in the kitchen Isaac whines, "Does this mean there isn't any soup?"


	44. So Obvious

_Characters: Stiles, Danny, Isaac, Scott_

_Genres: fluff_

_Notes: sixchord prompted me: "Subtle flirting in the locker room because they're trying to keep their relationship kind of secret."_

**So Obvious**

It's a few minutes before the first game of the season and Scott is nervous. He's worked hard to make sure he can still be on the team, and while he isn't Captain anymore, he's still worried about whether or not they're going to win.

He looks over at Isaac but doesn't say anything. Isaac is talking over their strategy for the game with the new Captain - Danny. Danny is, so far, a pretty good Captain. And Isaac isn't officially Co-Captain, but he and Danny have become friends in the past few months, at least in terms of Lacrosse, and he's been helping Danny out a lot. It's kind of cute, actually, how involved Isaac has been getting in Lacrosse and just school in general. He went from being the quiet, shy kid no one knew last year, to being a leather jacket wearing badass, to this year being almost as well liked by everyone as Danny. Almost.

Once he's done talking to Danny, Isaac looks over at Scott and smiles just a little. He doesn't say anything, he can't really come over and say anything, but they both know and that's enough for right now. Then Isaac grabs his phone and a few seconds later, Scott gets a new text message.

_Want to hang out after the game?_

Scott looks up from his phone to see Isaac is looking at him again and he nods, then texts back:

_Yes._

"You two are so obvious," Stiles says less than quietly right as the entire team is walking out onto the field. Scott looks around frantically, making sure no one heard that and no one has connected the dots - that Stiles means him and Isaac. It appears that no one has, so he breathes a sigh of relief and then shoves Stiles into the wall. No one pays much attention that either.


	45. A Werewolf Thing

_Characters: Stiles, Danny_

_Genre: I don't actually know what this would fit under... it's not really any genre, it's just sort of a short little scene_

_Notes: The ever wonderful sixchord prompted me: "-Stiles asks Danny to do some hacking for him and Danny is like "is this a werewolf thing?" and Stiles is like "ADFKJADF?""_

**A Werewolf Thing**

There is, suddenly, a ghost haunting Beacon Hills. Or more specifically, haunting the Beacon Hills Credit Union. No one knows why, no one knows who it is (or was), and no one knows what it's there for. But they intend to find out, or at least Stiles does.

So he does what he always does when he needs to figure something out. He scours the internet, prints off enough pages to make an entire textbook and when that doesn't work, he goes to the Library and starts looking up every book that's even remotely related to ghosts. Okay, well, not every book. There are some books in the paranormal YA section of the library that involve ghosts that he's perfectly happy pretending don't exist.

He's been more or less doing the human equivalent of haunting the Library for the better part of a week when he sees Danny there. Danny is either researching something for himself or god forbid, actually doing schoolwork. Stiles doesn't really care which.

But after watching Danny for a second, he gets an idea. So he walks over to Danny's table and says "Hey, Danny." He says it in the tone all people looking for a favor use, which is just way too friendly with a touch of over the top smile with a few too many teeth.

"Stilinski," Danny says in response. He doesn't look up from his laptop.

"Would you by any any chance know how to access a security camera feed?" Stiles doesn't say so, not yet, but that's the plan. He hasn't been able to find out much about ghosts so far, but maybe if he could get a better look at the ghost in action, see what it's doing as it does it rather than just seeing the aftermath from behind the crime scene tape, he might be able to figure this out. The Credit Union, being a bank, has cameras everywhere. So.

"Why?" asks Danny and he sounds more annoyed now than he did a few seconds ago.

"Does it matter why if I pay you?" Stiles says, even though he doesn't know where he'll find the money or if he even can.

"Is this a werewolf thing?" Danny says and finally, finally, he looks up from his laptop.

"A… A what now?" Stiles says and his voice is all kinds of high pitched. And really, he hopes that Danny mistakes the surprise his face is currently expressing as shock over an absurd suggestion rather than shock at someone so casually mentioning something as supposedly fictional as werewolves.

"Jackson told me before he left," Danny says, like that explains everything. And unfortunately, it kind of does.  
"Oh," Stiles says. It might explain why Danny knows, but he still doesn't know what to do with that.

"Okay," Danny says and he smiles in a way that makes Stiles nervous. "I'll hack into whatever security camera feed you want, but there's a price."

"I just said I'd pay, didn't I?"

"The price is a coffee."

"That's it?" Stiles says, confused. He was assuming Danny's hacking skills would cost a lot more than a single cup of coffee. Even if it's an expensive latte or something, that's still not very much.

"No, idiot." Danny rolls his eyes, like he's already tired of Stiles' company. "I meant with me. The price of my helping you is that you go out for coffee with me."

"You? And me?" Stiles points at himself, like he feels he needs to illustrate how particularly unsuitable he is for anything approaching a date.

"Yes. Now go," Danny says. He even adds a little shooing motion to the words.

"Okay." Stiles smiles, probably a little too brightly, and walks back to his own table.

He can't seem to turn that smile off for the entire rest of the night.


	46. Study Date

_Characters: Danny, Stiles_

_Genre: drabble, fluff_

_Notes: sixchord on tumblr prompted me: "As for Stiles/Danny here are a few prompts: Study date in the library!"_

**Study Date**

Stiles is trying very hard to walk slowly and smoothly, mostly because he's holding two hot coffees and he'd rather not spill them all over the place.

He's got a study date, of all things, with, of all people, Danny. And he's excited to the point where he wants to run into the library at full speed, he can't because again, the coffees.

So he walks into the library slowly and starts scanning the tables for Danny.

It takes him a second, but he finds him, sitting at one of the tables in the back. Danny has already opened up his backpack and has the contents of it spread everywhere. It looks like something exploded.

He walks over, puts on his best smile and says, "Hey."

Danny looks up at him, eyes the coffees in his hands and says, "You're late."  
Stiles huffs and pulls his hands back as Danny grabs for one of the coffees. "There was a line-up at the coffee shop." He sits down carefully so as to, again, not spill the coffees, and hands one to Danny.

Danny takes a huge sip of his and almost immediately chokes on it. "What is this?" He holds the offending, apparently disgusting coffee, out at arm's length.

"Hmm… let's see…" Stiles says as he lifts the lid of the coffee cup he's got in his hand. "That's the one with almond flavor and cream in it."

Without asking, he grabs the cup out of Danny's hand and switches it for the one he's holding. "This one's black."

Danny just shakes his head, takes a sip of the black coffee and sighs happily.

"How can you drink that?" Stiles asks with a shake of his head and a grimace.

"How can you like all that crap in yours?" Danny asks, mimicking Stiles with an over-the-top head shake and grimace that, by all accounts, should contort his face into something ugly, but doesn't.

They both stare each other down and take a long sip of coffee. It's quiet for a few seconds before Stiles says, "So what homework are you working on?"

"Chemistry," Danny says with a sigh. He hates chemistry, which is something they share in common, even though Harris has no desire to ruin Danny's life like he does Stiles'.

"I've got English," Stiles says.

"Want me to read it over for you when you're done?"

Stiles pauses a second, thinking before he answers. "That depends. What am I going to have to do for it?"

Danny smiles. "I'm sure I'll think of something."


	47. Everything

_Characters: Stiles, Derek, OMC_

_Genre: I don't know... it's not really angst... but it's kind of serious?_

**Everything**

Derek runs his hand up the back of his neck and curls his fingers into his hair.

He has to do this and he has to do it now.

He's going to tell Stiles everything. Everything. Kate, everything.

He has to. He has to because he's never told anyone other than Laura and that was mostly because she'd forced it out of him.

He has to, and he has to before he loses his nerve.

He's never been any good at much of anything in his life, let alone telling people things.

No, wait. He has been good at one thing. Making rash, brutal decisions and acting on them quickly. It's never really worked out for him, almost never, but he does it anyway because it's the only way he knows how to get anything done.

And Stiles? He's important. And Derek can't do this anymore. He can't go around with this weight on his shoulders, feeling like he's tricking Stiles into liking him by pretending he's this solid wall, this big, sturdy kind of person who can handle anything when the truth is that he spends hours every day just trying to figure out what the hell he's doing and going over how it all went wrong for the millionth time.

And more importantly he needs to know, before he gets any deeper into this, that Stiles is going to stick around. He's pretty sure that they're… No, actually, he's not sure of anything and that's the problem. They've been dating for about six months now, and Derek hopes that that is long enough into a relationship to go explaining everything. But that's probably not true. There's probably no good time in a relationship to sit the person you're dating down and say, "Hey, so you know how my life was a colossal disaster before I met you? Well, there's more to it than you think." It's about the worst thing you can do to someone, to drop this sort of bombshell on someone. But he has to. It's unfair of him not to. And much as he is a complete screw-up in pretty well all areas of of his life, he at least tries to be fair.

And he doesn't… he doesn't… he wants Stiles to be happy. So he wants to give Stiles an out. Because he's not entirely convinced he can provide the sort of happiness Stiles deserves. And Stiles should be prepared, he should know…

Derek doesn't know. Everything. He's going to tell him everything.

So, he waits in Stiles' dorm room until he comes back from class. He doesn't know Stiles' schedule, so he ends up waiting for hours. Hours with plenty of time to think. Plenty of time to think and plenty of time to curse himself out for ever even starting this in the first place because really, it was horrible of him. It was awful. But he can't (and he doesn't want to) get out of it now. He'd had a weird sort of a whatever you want to call it (he refuses to use the word crush) on Stiles for a while but now? Now he doesn't want to think about his life without Stiles in it. And not just as a friend or a packmate, either. That's probably a bit much for someone you've been dating for six months, but he's not going to go letting that part out, just the 'hey, I'm a big disaster, so run while you can' part.

It's about another ten minutes before someone walks into the room and it's not Stiles but Stiles' roommate. He's about to say hello when the guy - Derek thinks his name is Gary, or Garrett, or something - jumps and yelps just a little. Garrett is a skinny, short, clearly easily frightened kind of guy.

"There - there aren't supposed to be any non-students in the dorm rooms unsupervised!" Gary squeaks.

Derek doesn't say anything in response to this, just casually raises an eyebrow at Gary (Grant? Now it's starting to bother him, but still not enough to ask.)

Grant opens his mouth to complain some more so Derek adds a subtle head tilt to the act, and Grant huffs. "Stiles isn't even going to be here until eight."

Derek looks down at his watch - it's 4:46 now. Grant huffs again, and this time Derek thinks its' more of a proud sort of huff, which is funny, coming from a so pale he must be daylight deprived, coke bottle glasses wearing super dork like Grant.

When he doesn't move from his spot on Stiles' bed, Grant's face bunches up and he grunts, "Well, fine then! Stay here all night. I've got class until nine, anyway."

With that, Grant struts the few feet to the door and slams it shut on his way out.

For a few minutes after Grant leaves, Derek toys with the idea of leaving and coming back later. But he doesn't. He stays right where he is because he knows that if he leaves, he won't come back. Or rather, he'll come back, just not for this.

So he sits there and he waits until Stiles comes back at 8:15.

Stiles rushes into the room, apparently in a hurry for something (he's always in a hurry for something) and the second he notices Derek is in the room he stops dead. "Derek?"

"Hey," Derek says. And that's it. No explanation for why he's here or anything, not yet.

"You miss me already, huh?" Stiles says with a sly grin that's intended to be sexy, and really only is because Stiles is trying so hard and for whatever reason Derek finds that more attractive than it should be.

Stiles starts crawling up onto the bed and he's about an inch away from kissing him when Derek stops him short with a hand raised between them and a, "We need to talk."

"Oh," Stiles says as he backs up and the way his face breaks, Derek wants to kick himself. Clearly, he's off to a good start here.

"No! No, I don't mean…" Derek starts but then trails off. He pushes his hand down onto the bed, like it can hold him up, hold in all the things he's trying to keep contained. "No, I just… there are things I need to tell you."

Stiles smiles again but this time it's one of those ones he uses to cover up how nervous he is. "Like what? I already know you're a big, scary werewolf, that your uncle is only just on the better side of homicidal mania, and that you live in a burned out shack. What else could there be? Wait, you didn't bite someone new, did you? Isaac, Erica and Boyd are enough to deal with."

"No, I didn't - " Derek starts but then he stops. What? "Why is that what you immediately jumped to?"

Stiles shrugs and presses himself up against the wall. "I dunno."

"Okay, well…" Derek lets out a sigh. This is going badly. And it's only going to get worse. "It's something else, okay?"

"And what, you're going to make me guess?" Stiles says with an eyebrow raised as high as it can go before running out of room on his face.

"No. But if you'd shut up for five seconds, I'd tell you."

"If you don't want me to say anything, stop pausing like that. You know I don't do well with suspense."

"Sorry not all of us talk as fast as you do. Sometimes normal people need a second or two to organize their thoughts."

"And this is my fault because?"

"It's not. Just… just shut up for a second, alright?"

"Okay. Okay. Wait, are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. No, I'm not. Just… I have to say this, okay?"

"Alright, warning you now. You're officially scaring me. And not in the sexy sort of way."

Derek rolls his eyes at that because how did he end up with someone who says things like that anyway?

"I'm trying to tell you something here, okay?"

Stiles reaches out and puts a hand on his arm. "Okay."

Derek purses his lips and looks down because even now that Stiles is finally listening, he doesn't know how to say it. He doesn't want to say it. He really doesn't want to say it. He starts toying with the idea of just never telling him, never telling anyone. But he can't. Not when Stiles is sitting there all concerned, with soft eyes and his hand resting on his arm and… Fuck. Here we go.

"So… you know…" he pauses, swallows loudly. "About how Kate Argent…" fuck, this is probably the hardest thing he's ever done. "She burned my house down."

Stiles looks like he desperately wants to say something, but mercifully he remains silent.

"There's more to it than that."

Derek can almost hear the words, "More to it than what?" popping out of Stiles' mouth, but Stiles still doesn't speak. This has to be a record for the longest period of time Stiles has ever stayed quiet.

"She… I… You… okay…" Derek blows out a breath and smacks his head back against the wall loudly.

Stiles hand slides down his arm to grip his hand tightly. "She what, Derek?" he asks.

"She… I was 15. And she… she was beautiful and I, I didn't look like this. I was quiet and awkward. I was a skinny kid with big ears, big hands and big feet and she… she was the first girl, woman, to ever pay any attention to me."

Stiles smiles and it's half fond, half teasing. "You're still quiet and awkward, people just mistake it for mysterious and broody due to all the leather and the stubble."

Derek almost smiles at that, almost, and he loves how Stiles can put him at ease with just a few words. And he wishes he could leave it at that, but he can't. He has to keep going. "We kept it a secret. We went out to places where no one would see us and we hung out in the back of her car. I was with her for over a year. I thought… I thought she liked me. I thought she cared about me. I thought I loved her. I was going to tell her everything because I thought it was going to last forever. But then it turned out she was just using me for infomation. And.. well, you know what happened after that."

"Ohh." There's a long pause as exactly what that all means connects together in Stiles' mind. "Oh my god. I don't… I mean… how do you? How are you? I can't even begin to… really." Stiles squeezes his eyes shut and squeezes Derek's hand.

Derek is about to say something, because this is what he expected. He's about to say that it's okay, that…

"I'm sorry," Stiles says. And this Derek didn't expect. He didn't expect rage, pure and hot to be flowing out of Stiles so fiercely that it's almost tangible. Stiles doesn't say anything about it, he doesn't bring it up, how angry this makes him. Instead, he just says, "I'm sorry," again.

And Derek wants to say something now, but he has no idea what he wants to say, what he should say, so he doesn't say anything. He just sits there, holding onto Stiles' hand tightly.

"Wait, so…" Stiles says, and immediately, Derek feels nervous. So, what? "Why did you tell me all of that? Why now?"

Derek gulps. Of course that would be the question Stiles asks. "I -" he starts. "I-" he starts then stops again. He knows why. Why is it so hard to say out loud? "I wanted you to know. I've never really told anyone, but you're not just anyone. You're -" again, he stops even though his brain is quickly filling in the words. Everything. The person I want to spend my life with. The most important person I've ever known. And you should know, I needed you to know.

Stiles smiles and says, "You wanted to see if you could scare me away, huh?"

Derek doesn't say anything, but he nods, just barely.

"You don't actually want to scare me away though, do you?" Stiles looks at the ground as he says it and Derek can't help but feel like a jerk when Stiles' voice cracks at the end.

Derek shakes his head. "No." Of course not. Never. Not ever. Not you.

"Well, good." Stiles looks up just as Derek looks away. "But we're going to have to talk about it some more, you know," Stiles says.

Derek nods again. Yes, I know. He forces himself to say, "Eventually, yeah."

"Good." Stiles pauses for a moment and Derek wonders why. Then Stiles says, "You know I love you, right?"

And somehow, even though he's suspected it and he's hoped it was true, he's a little bit taken aback by this. "Don't act so shocked, okay?" Stiles says.

"I love you too," Derek says.

"Well, of course you do."


	48. Homecoming

_Characters: Danny, Stiles, Scott, Allison, Lydia, Isaac_

_Genres: Oh, look, more fluff_

_Notes: Sixchord prompted me: "As for Stiles/Danny (I called it Stanny once and now I can't unthink it, oh god, what a horrible name), here are a few prompts:_ _-Homecoming dance!"_

**Homecoming**

"Hey. Ready to go?" Danny asks, and it's obvious he's nervous. Which is funny, because usually, he's very sure of himself. But tonight? Tonight he's nervous.

Stiles gulps and nods his head. "Yeah." And it's obvious he's nervous too.

Stiles nods again as he gets up off his bed and walks toward Danny. "Let's do this," he says.

"That's the idea, yeah." Danny holds out his hand and after a second, Stiles takes it.

"We'll be the hottest guys there," Stiles says, but the way he says it, it's like he thinks the opposite will be true.

"We'll be fine," Danny says. "But if you don't move your ass, we're going to be late!

"Right," Stiles says with another nod.

"Oh, come on!" Danny grumbles. He has to practically drag Stiles downstairs and out the door. Then he has to drive them to the school because Stiles seems completely incapable of doing it himself.

But, after they get there and after about two glasses of punch, Stiles finally starts to loosen up and they dance to a couple of fast songs and sit out the slow ones. They hang out with their friends, and they talk about school and lacrosse and they hold hands under the table and Allison and Scott pretend like they're not doing the same thing. Lydia and Isaac dance together a few times because neither of them came with a date, but they don't seem to be enjoying it too much.

Over all, they all have a really, really good time. And at the end of the night, as Stiles is about to drive Danny home, Danny turns to him and says, "Thanks."

"For what?"

"For getting over yourself and having a good time. This was fun."

"Of course," Stiles says with a too-quick head nod. He looks like he's about to start rambling about something and to stop him, Danny kisses him.

Of course, once they stop, Stiles starts rambling about that. So Danny kisses him again to shut him up.


	49. Run

_Characters: Danny, Stiles_

_Genres: drabble_

**Run**

"So," says Danny. "Werewolves exist, there's a whole bunch of them in town, and not only that, but witches exist and one is after me because of…" Danny trails off with a decidedly angry shrug of his shoulders and a glare directed firmly at Stiles.

"Because it wanted to use your hacking skills," Stiles finishes. "But we're not about to let it."

"Really? What does it want me to hack? I kind of doubt it's worth dying over."

"No, see, that's the thing. It's a witch," Stiles says, like this is something everyone should know, like what he's about to say is common knowledge. "It would use you for your skills, then probably eat you."

"Oh," Danny says. A look of understanding crosses his face that, if they weren't currently running for their lives from a three hundred year old crazy woman, would probably be funny.

"Yeah."

In the distance behind them, they can hear the witch cackling, actually cackling.

"Hurry up!" Danny shouts. He grabs Stiles' hand and drags him forward, leading him on.


	50. Getting Involved Never Works

_Characters: Deaton, Scott, Isaac_

_Genre: like I ever do anything other than fluff_

_Notes: sixchord on tumblr prompted me: "And some Scisaac:_ _- Deaton gets sick of them pining from afar so he decides to play matchmaker."_

**Getting involved never works**

Deaton isn't exactly sure why he's stuck around Beacon Hills. It's a nice enough town, sure, but it's not exactly the greatest place for someone who has stepped back from the supernatural. Or at least he'd originally intended to. Now that's pretty much out the window considering that he has not only one but two assistants and both of them are werewolves.

They're good kids, though, the both of them. Even if they are horribly head-over-heels for each other and ignoring it like that's what they're being paid to do.

So one day, after months of Scott and Isaac pretending like they're not constantly looking at each other all dopey eyed, he decides to do something about it.

At first, he schedules them to work together often and leaves them alone for long stretches of time hoping that, if there's no one else around and they're both in the same place at the same time all the time, they'll start talking and through that they'll figure it out.

But this doesn't help, and actually, it seems to make things worse. After a few weeks have passed, he notices that they've all but stopped looking at each other at all, and they make a point of occupying separate corners of the room whenever they're working together.

So he goes for another tactic. Whenever he schedules them to work together, he walks in every so often and will ask one or both of them a question, or a few questions, trying to lead them to talking about it because if they won't talk about it themselves, maybe he can make them start talking.

And it's weird, and unnerving, that's he so irritated by the two of them that he feels he has to get involved in their personal lives. That he feels the need to get involved in the lives of two teenage werewolves. Because apparently, that's how his life is going these days.

And still, nothing. He's tried every possible question, every possible thing he could think of to say to try and lead them towards just talking about it. Actually, no, it's not that nothing has happened. Nothing would mean things hadn't changed. And they had. The both of them were now avoiding each other and him.

And that's it. He is done getting involved as it clearly doesn't work. So he goes back to his usual routine of not saying anything to anyone about anything unless they ask him a direct question. Things are easier that way.

So, of course, a week after he stops trying to bring it up, he catches Isaac and Scott kissing in the supply closet.


	51. Mistletoe

_Characters: Stiles, Derek, Lydia, Scott, Allison_

_Genre: fluff_

_Notes: Me and Korynnvictoria were talking about christmas and Sterek and mistletoe earlier… so… yeah. This._

**Mistletoe**

It's christmas and Lydia is, of course, having a party. There are decorations everywhere and enough food, punch and beer to feed a small army, which is good because roughly a small army has shown up. Some of them, Lydia is convinced, have shown up just to see if she's really as crazy as she seemed to be the past few months and the other half have shown up out of fear that maybe she's crazy, but she's still as dangerous as she ever was. Not that she cares, not that she's ever cared. The point is that people show up, not that they show up because they actually like her.

Stiles shows up because he feels entitled to, as he feels like he was more or less tricked into putting up nearly all of the decorations. Allison comes because she's Lydia's best friend and then Scott shows up because he's Stiles' best friend and he can't be the only one not going. Then Derek, Erica, Isaac and Boyd show up for god knows what reason - they certainly weren't invited - but they show up well over an hour late and at that point there are too many other people who have shown up that weren't invited to forcefully make all of them leave, so Lydia just doesn't bother.

Understandably it's a bit awkward, having Scott and Allison in the same space, even though they broke up months ago and according to most everyone else (and particularly Lydia and Stiles) they should be over it already. And it's awkward having Scott and Derek in the same space because, again, even though it was months ago, they're still not okay with each other, though Derek has officially stopped trying to get Scott to join his pack by this point. But it's a big party and they all manage to avoid each other well enough, so there is surprisingly little drama borne of these complicated issues.

About halfway through the night, as always tends to happen at parties, people start pairing off. Some of them will only last the night, some will only last through christmas break and a few lucky pairs will somehow manage to find they like each other enough to stick together through to the first day back at school in January.

Stiles, of course, is not one of these people. No, he's one of the ones ditched by his friend for a girl. Only in this instance, the girl his friend is going for is an ex and not interested in the slightest.

So Stiles is left standing alone just under the porch and watching everyone else. He's about to walk over to the punch bowl and get his sixth glass of punch just for something to do when from behind him, Derek says, "If you dislike parties so much, why are you here?"  
Stiles spins around to see Derek standing in the doorway to the kitchen and more or less blocking his path to the punch. "I don't dislike parties," he says.

"Really? So your idea of a good time is lurking in dark, shadowy places?"

Stiles arches an eyebrow at this. "First off, why do you care? And second, says the guy who does nothing but lurk in dark, shadowy places!"  
"I don't care. I was just making a comment."

"And why were you making a comment? Don't you have anyone else to bother?"

"Oh, so now I'm bothering you?" Derek walks about halfway over to him, then stops.

"That's what I just said, isn't it?"

"I suppose." Derek shrugs and walks over so he's standing just a few feet away.

"What do you mean you suppose? I wasn't asking you for your opinion, I was just saying that that was what I said."

"You seem awfully wound up, Stiles," Derek says, like this is some big statement, some big thing he's noticing.

Stiles takes a step back, purposefully putting some more distance between them. Not that it really matters how much distance he puts between himself and Derek, what with the whole advanced werewolf senses thing Derek's got going and all.

"I'm not wound up, I'm creeped out." Stiles takes another step back to illustrate his point.

Derek looks almost vaguely hurt by that and Stiles spits out, "Okay, wait. Don't go looking like that. I was just -"

"Kiss and make up!" Lydia suddenly demands from out of nowhere. Stiles spins around to see she's teetering on her three inch heels just behind him. She's got a mostly empty cup of beer in one hand and it's obvious that it's not the first she's had that night. "Come on, you two! Kiss and make up!" she demands more loudly this time.

"Uh… umm… but we… why…" Stiles stammers.

"Why would you think that…?" Derek trails off.

They both look perplexed enough to make her laugh. And then she pulls out a sprig of mistletoe from behind her back. "Come on! At least someone should be having a good time!" she says, even though almost everyone else at the party seems to be doing exactly that. She pushes Stiles forward and he's not expecting it, so he doesn't manage to fight against it in time and he ends up nearly tripping over his own feet until Derek rushes forward and catches him by the arm.

So now he's standing right next to Derek, with Derek's hand still on his arm and Lydia is clapping like a deranged seal. "Come on!" she calls out with a laugh. She holds her arm out as high as she can and waves the mistletoe around. "Kiss!"

"I… don't think she's going to leave," Derek says.

"Kiss him or I'll kiss him!" Lydia demands and she grabs Stiles' other hand, making it clear to all of them who she meant. It's equally clear from the way Stiles' cheeks suddenly flush and the way his eyes go wide that he really, really, desperately wants her to.

So Derek moves in before Lydia can spin Stiles around and kisses him. He doesn't put much effort into it as this clearly isn't something Stiles' wants, but he does it anyway.

But then, after the initial shock fades and Stiles stops squirming, he deepens the kiss. And Derek pulls him closer and starts putting more effort into it. And it's clear that even if it wasn't intentional, they're both enjoying it, so Lydia drops Stiles' hand and runs off in search of new people to play with.

So Derek and Stiles, in effect, have become those people who pair up at a party, even if it took a drunk Lydia and some mistletoe to do it.


	52. Leaving New York

_Characters: Derek, Laura, Stiles (sort of)_

_Genre: I don't even know what genre this would be_

_Notes: I wrote this one a while ago, but somehow I managed to miss posting it to both ffn and ao3!_

**Leaving New York**

Derek is just walking down the street, minding his own business, when out of nowhere the scent hits him.

It smells like… he doesn't know how to describe it, but he knows that he has to find whoever it is that smells like that and… and… he doesn't know. He'll figure it out once he figures out how to stop the wolf in him from howling and going mad.

He tracks the scent for hours, but ultimately, it leads him nowhere.

Sometimes he really hates New York.

Usually, he likes it. Usually he likes the anonyminity of the city and how sometimes he can just wander the city, following any odd scent that catches his attention. He likes all the different types of food and how he could easily never eat at the same restaurant twice.

But now? Now he hates it.

Because he's lost that scent and it's driving him so crazy that he's not even sure it ever really existed. Maybe his brain just made it up.

Disgruntled, more so than usual, he goes back to the apartment and finds Laura packing a suitcase.

He doesn't say anything, just waits for her to look over at him and explain just what the hell the suitcase is for.

"I'm going to Beacon Hills for a few days," she says without bothering to so much as look up at him. She just keeps fluttering all over the room, packing her bag with unusual speed.

"Why?"

"That nurse, I forget her name. The one that takes care of Peter. She called. Said he's been…" She shrugs her shoulders and he can see, just in that tiny motion, that whatever it is is really bothering her. "He's been…" She stops what she's doing and just sort of stands there, still. "She thinks maybe he can hear her, or something. I have to go."

Peter was always her favorite uncle and it kills her knowing he's like that. Just stuck like that.

Derek wants to say something to comfort her, he wants to tell her that he's sorry this happened, that he's sorry for everything but instead what comes out is, "You don't want me to come, do you?" He wants to kick himself for saying that, but there's no taking it back now.

She shakes her head and picks back up again, moving at cartoon tornado fast speed now. "She just called. If you hadn't come home just now, I was just going to leave you a note."

"Oh."

That's it. Oh. He doesn't have any other words.

She doesn't say much else, reminds him to water the plants, to pay the rent on the first. He nods, of course he will, and she's gone.

She was supposed to come back on the third, but when she isn't back by the fifth, and hasn't answered her phone since the second, Derek gets on the next flight to LA. He rents a car from there and drives to Beacon Hills. He calls her six more times on the drive from LA to Beacon Hills and still, no answer. He'd leave a voicemail, except for that he's already filled up her inbox. He'd leave a text message, except for that she hates those and wouldn't answer one even if she was answering her phone.

It doesn't take him long to figure out what happened when he gets into town. He can smell her everywhere, but it's not her. The smell is wrong, it's all mixed with decay and he doesn't have to see her to know it. She's dead.

She's dead and the last thing they said to each other was something about paying the rent.

The other weird thing about Beacon Hills?

The town is coated in that smell. The one he thought he made up. The one that makes his wolf howl and claw him up from the inside.


	53. Like A Time Bomb

_Characters: Stiles, Derek_

_Genre: Fluff, Comedy_

_Notes: I posted this one to my tumblr a while ago, and somehow forgot to post it here!_

**Like A Time Bomb**

Stiles will never tell a living soul, but when he says he listens to everything, he means it. He likes pop, country, rock, folk, hip-hop, techno, dubstep, r&b, indie, punk, ska and just about everything else. He likes music from just about every decade and right this second he has about 4,000 songs on his phone and there are songs from this year, last year, the last decade, the nineties, the eighties, the seventies, and even a few things from the sixties. He likes everything.

Right now he's got his music app on shuffle and he's playing a game he's invented, whatever song comes on, he has to find something it makes him think of. Then a song he forgot he even put on here starts playing. It's "Wake Up" by Alicia Keys. (Yes, he likes Alicia Keys.) And he's just walking down the hall to next class, his headphones in his ears, and he's bobbing his head to the music, trying to think of what the song makes him think of.

Then it hits him and he can't help but burst out laughing. He laughs for just a few seconds too long and a few of the other kids in the hall turn and look at him. He just shrugs. He is, by this point, far too used to being the weird kid that people stare at to care.

The tone of it doesn't fit, but the words? The words fit.

He takes his headphones out of his ears as he walks into class, but the song keeps playing in his head.

When he drives home, he's humming the song and when he gets inside he puts it on again (still with his headphones) just so he'll stop humming it.

It's funny to the point of being borderline ridiculous. Especially the lines "Now all I battle is your ego and your pride. It's ticking like a time bomb, ready to ignite." Because, that, that right there is just so Derek. That is Derek all over.

And speak of the devil, there he is, suddenly just jerking Stiles' headphones out of his ears and growling.

"Something I can help you with or did you just all of a sudden have an urge to show up here and physically harrass me?" says Stiles as he rubs at his still stinging ears.

Derek doesn't reply to that, he just lifts the earphones up a bit, like they're some sort of foreign objects that he's never seen before and listens as the song starts playing again.

"Alicia Keys?" Derek says, or more like grunts, but that's the only way Derek ever communicates; grunts, growls and snapping, even when he is using words.

Stiles jerks the earphones out of Derek's grip and makes a face. "Honestly? I'm more surprised you know who that is."

Derek gets that stern look on his face, the one Stiles knows is an indicator that Derek is paying attention to something. Stiles blushes and squeezes the earphones tightly in his hand, muffling the sound. Derek snorts and for him, that's pretty damn close to an actual honest to god laugh.

"I can still hear it," he mutters, but it's not his usual I-hate-talking-to-all-people mutter. There's a slightly lighter edge to it.

Derek is listening to the song, and that's weird. That is just so weird. So Stiles scrambles to turn it off.

When he turns back around, Derek is in the middle of leaving, and he's barely holding back his laughter. Actual, honest to god laughter.

So Stiles does the only thing he can think of. He unplugs his headphones and blasts the song as loud as he can.


End file.
